


Codex of creatures: Salvation

by Apollo (Apollo_13)



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Aristocracy, Bromance, Dark Fantasy, Demon Deals, Drama, Emotional Manipulation, False Identity, Family Dynamics, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, High Fantasy, Historical Fantasy, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Magic, Mild Gore, Mind Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology References, Nobility, Other, POV Multiple, Philosophy, Politics, Power Dynamics, Pre-War, Psychology, Revenge, Scheming, Secret Identity, Secrets, Shapeshifting, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters, Symbolism, Thriller, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Vampires, Were-Creatures, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 80
Words: 122,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23158900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apollo_13/pseuds/Apollo
Summary: Under the desert hot sun to the tangled branches of green forests.From the cold peaks of mountains to the dark depths of oceans.What an extraordinary our world is, full of mysteries and wonders, loaded with spectacles and allures. Yet brutal and merciless.This is the codex of creatures, contains epic tales of exotic beings; cruel, savage, sometimes tender, and merciful, but never careless or trusting.This is the written saga of their struggle in this never-ending cycle of life and death.***Salvation***Innyana range, home, and a hunting ground for numerous beings. A place for predators where the incautious can only be prey.Something is going on in this tiny village near the deadly Crocotta's cliff.Who is the newcomer who enchanted the inhabitants by his arrival?And why some people can never get out of this place?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter One : A brief reflection on life

**Author's Note:**

> Author's notes :  
> 1- English is not my first language.  
> 2- I am a student and full-time worker that's why I am slow at writing.  
> 3- This is a first draft hence there is a lot of typos and mistakes, forgive me for this. I am working to be better.  
> 4- This is a high and dark fantasy novel read on your own risk.  
> 5- Enjoy.

****

The candle's weak light reflected on the worn walls, flickering like an abandoned soul.

A robust wind slammed the broken window and burn the flame out. Rokah stood up facing the cold air, trying to close the sash when he glimpsed a black entity walking alone in this freezing weather. A scene like a droplet of ink sliding off a white paper and leaving a trace of its fleeting existence. 

Rokah forgot what he was going to do and stared with curiosity...

The black entity was advancing at a slow pace, fighting the wind and the pile of snow with unbalanced steps. He tried to correct his walk by standing with a cane and that made it clear for an observer to spot the injury or the deformity in his right leg, even from this distance.

The raven, long coat that he wore got trimmed by the snowflakes, and his long dark hair frisk with the wind, giving him the appearance of a lost ghost. 

Rokah could not see his face clearly, but the direction the lost ghost has chosen to follow gave him a sad image.

The curiosity in Rokah's eyes transformed into something else, something blended with concern and glimmered like trembling light. A sudden urge to learn if his guess was right about the fate this person has chosen.

Rokah believed that he was not a sentimental person, that he didn't easily get swayed by emotions, but matters that touch the hidden part of his heart always reminded him of his blurry past and constantly proved him wrong.

In the end, he followed the lost ghost till the cliff, where he stood near the edge, meditating to the sound of the hollow waves made by the wind as it hit the rocks beneath.

It didn't take long for this ghost before he started approaching the edge, in the same slow pace, as if he was responding to the prayer of an angel.

What was wrong with Rokah at that moment? Why did he care?... Fragments of foggy images flashed across his eyes like a forgotten dream. And without hesitation, he screamed out piercing the thick layers of cold. It was as if there was somebody else inside him.

″ Sir!. ... Sir! Can I draw you?"

Something like an illusion and everything seemed out of this world. When he sat in front of the man with the appearance of a black Ghost. Rokah placed a few sketches above a wooden table that shake with every movement he made. He waited for the man to examine them, and for the fat lady with the pig-like face to bring them what they have ordered which it didn't take long.

Rokah found himself immersed in his observations of this person who didn't resemble any anthropomorphic mongrel he had encountered in this village. It was a very rare sight here.

He thought to himself that maybe the animal parts of this man were in a more discreet place. But the elegance that surrounded the man's demeanor, the smell of the jasmine that he emitted, and the tidy, clean style of his clothes gave Rokah a different impression related to the grace and well-being.

He also detected the anemic paleness on his white face and it puzzled him. Either this man had suffered from a long phase of malnutrition, or he had recent massive bleeding.

Rokah couldn't decide given the normal, healthy way, this lost ghost interacted.

The lesion in his right leg seemed from this close distance more like an ancient injury than a birth deformation. Rokah examined him while the man was examining the sketches in his hands with seriousness. 

He was browsing through them one by one and Rokah could tell that this man must have weak eyesight from the way he handled the papers.

Then the man gazed at Rokah, several seconds, trying to organize his thoughts about the personal intentions and the gains Rokah will collect from this unwelcome intrusion into his life. He nodded with understanding and said: "Are you a doctor?" Pointing his finger at the anatomical sketch of an open chest. 

Rokah detected the relief in his voice as if this ghost discovered the reason why this unknown individual had called out to him.

A small curve formed on Rokah's lips before he corrected this statement: "It depends on your definition of the word, but I never consider myself a doctor."

The man didn't cut the formed eye contact and asked with inquisitiveness while he put his joined hands under his chin: "You don't consider yourself a doctor? Then, maybe you are an artist... Is that why you want to draw me?″

Of course, Rokah said that only to get the man's attention and maybe to stop him from jumping into the depth of the uncertain valley. The reasons for him to interfere with this man's life and death decision, he wondered himself because people attempting to kill themselves never interested him.

" You picked up my interest." He answered, his voice showed some hesitation as he wasn't very sure of this response and the man in front of him detected it.

" It must be very entertaining!... Does this enrich your feeling of heroism?" The man sounded calm in spite of the anger in his words.

" I considered it entertaining, capturing the essence of a man who decided to give up his own life, will have its own charm on a white paper," Rokah responded starting to regret his unwanted interference.

"Even if you don't know him, Even if you don't know his reasons?" The man lost his first composure and the flow of his words sailed with anger and anguish.

"Death is one, death doesn't appreciate our trivial reasons," Rokah answered, he was confident this time.

The man closed his eyes for a moment and said with a hoarse voice reviling his unfathomable melancholy: "And life too.″

Rokah took an insightful gaze to the pale face in front of him, asking himself about those reasons that made this person sink so deep to the point where he was ready to end his life. He shifted around observing all those anthropomorphic mongrels in the tavern, their deformed animal parts, ears, noses, tails, misshapen faces, and legs, struggling with their miserable lives, and this man looked better than them all.

Rokah sighed in objection: "No, Life gives us choices." then he stood up trying to leave regretting his intrusion. But he couldn't deny the tread of resemblance between this man and himself. In the end, he was just like him, focusing only on things that he didn't have while blaming life for the miseries he had created, and here he was, giving advice like he figured it all out.

The man watched him silently collecting the sketches, then he asked him before he left: "Why do you draw?"

"For a lot of reasons," Rokah said, surprised at the detour of speech, his eyes wandered through the surrounding area, stealing glances at the mongrels near them: "I think, the most important reason is to mark my own existence..." he paused then added: "Probably."

A faint smile parted the man's lips with a little burst of a surprise, he mimicked Rokah's glances and asked again "Isn't enough for you to know that you exist... at this moment? ″

"No, I am full of doubt."

He closed his dark eyes again and gestured with his head up and down signing the acceptance of the strange made-up request of Rokah.

In contrast, it came to Rokah that this person somehow liked the careless reply he gave. No, he actually liked this whole conversation. 

He also guessed that this man's suicidal attempt was an act of calling out for help. Perhaps he was calling for someone to stop him, to have a talk with him. And it looks like his wish got fulfilled.

How much pitiful these kinds of people are, Rokah pondered. How miserable they can be. He understood clearly how hard and destructive to seek aid and comfort from others. 

The feeling of constraint, oppression, dismay, he recognized it all. 

Right now, in Rokah's heart born a vigorous urge to draw this abandoned soul.


	2. Chapter Two : A tiny slice of reality

A thick layer of soft snow had already covered the roads. White and cold, yet tender and dazzling. Rokah, hypnotized by the contradiction. The solitude. The awing existence and the fragility of the tiny little crystals. Crushing them as he slowly moved and merged amidst the ephemeral moments.

Along the way, he spent the time thinking of a context in which he should paint this new commitment. A vague picture traced the hollow paper of his inspiration, but he wasn't very clear about it. Thus he decided he should find out more about the black ghost. He needed to meet him again, talk more before he would start drawing.

Nikolai Hendrickson told him he was staying up there at the edge of this village, in that antique house. The glorious palace Rokah appreciated when he first came to this village.  
Through a meticulous search and investigation, he judged that the owner of that house was the owner of this village.

Closing the door to his dull room, he followed the action with glares and an objection. This unexpected, unwelcomed visitor invaded the serenity of his privacy.

"What are you doing here?" He denounced,... "The time we have agreed to meet has yet to come," a placid fake voice masked his fear and surprise. He had cultivated it with the passing days, always proved useful. Then he reached for the stove to warm his hands. An act of nonchalance to seal the performance.

The big man who settled in the middle of the room said with mockery while staring at the corpse-like person in bed: "Still playing the caring doctor, or perhaps some new experiment to change the way you look?"

Rokah stood still in his place when the big man started approaching him. An adult Aractanthrope, four cubits tall, armored with muscles. Not quick, but one strike from him in the right place can be fatal.

When the big man bent over to bring his face to the same level as him, Rokah smelled the odor of fresh blood.

The big man smiled, revealing his yellow curved canines, and asked in disbelief: "You can change your name, face, but you will never change your true self... mongrel."

His tone transformed into something tainted with disgust before he continued: "No matter what you do, you won't be more than a low, worthless half-bread... Waiting for his master to throw him some leftover."

What the arrogant man said was the truth, the truth Rokah tried to deny all his life. It irritates him; the truth irritates us all when it is hard to accept.

He had heard that some residents got attacked and killed in the past days, now he knows, for sure it was this predator. Yet, he wanted to engage him in conversation to lower his guard, lessen his hostility. He wanted to know his purpose for staying here near a bunch of mongrels whom he despised so much.

Slight movements on the bed got Rokah's attention. He flew to the side, abandoning his chain of thoughts and taking away all the covers to reveal a body bandaged like a mummy.  
He checked his pupil, counted his pulses, smelled his breath, tested his reflexes, and examined his skin for infection. All was better than when he had found him, even when the tissue regeneration had started. No wonder a lycanthrope's regeneration capacity must be very high.

Those actions gave the unwanted guest a bad impression. Low respect from a lowly mongrel generated a load of hostility. Those trivial acts made the big man lose his cool easily.

There is an opening. The doctor thought.

A hard hit between his shoulders caused him to fall on his knees and made him gasp for breath. He wasn't surprised. He anticipated it and chose not to avoid it because he wanted to test the physical power of this man for future purposes.

A bad decision? Maybe...

Rokah felt crushed. The world started spinning around his head and before the big man got out; the doctor heard him murmuring about giving him an answer to his proposal, then everything became black.

***

"Didn't I tell you to not let him go out alone, he is still very weak?" The Count screamed, his pair of white pointed canines manifested, marking his anger.

The butlers and the maids were all silent. An aura of fear possessed them, but the arrival of the chief servant of the house had softened the air a bit. 

The butler was a unique creature with a matchless physique. A tall and thin body covered in dark reddish hair, even his face. An observer couldn't distinguish his features or the emotions that could paint it. His long arms overrun his knees. They attached two big hairy hands. His body crammed in a black, elegant servant's outfit.

He responded to the Count in the most formal way, showing ample respect: "Your guest has returned, sir." But his tone sipped a certain arrogance: "He is taking a rest in the room next to the great hall."

The count stared in disbelieve. His eyes widened for a second, and the wrinkles of his anger softened. He descended to the great hall to check for himself. And there the object of his anger was, sitting on the chair drinking the tea alone. The long silky black hair slid on his back whenever he moved his head.

A breath of relief escaped the Count's tensed chest. He approached slowly and asked, hoping to start a conversation: "I learned that you have left the main house to pay a visit to the villagers of this estate."

"Would your lordship kindly drop the formality?" A cold, bitter voice flew: "There is no need for it now." Said Mr. Hendrickson.

The Count sought a chair, and sat face to face with his guest, then asked again: "Humm, Mr. Hendrickson or rather Nicolai, where did you go in this weather...″

"Am I not allowed to leave the house?" Nicolai interrupted. He took a sip from his cup and not even bothered to look in the count's direction.

"No, I just thought you were still not in good shape to w..." The Count tried to explain, but he got interrupted again.

"You don't have to worry, there is nowhere I could go given the location of this place and my right leg."

The count lips curved to repress his annoyance caused by the constant interruptions of his words. He kept watching Mr. Hendrickson, who seemed indifferent to his presence and was waiting for him to make eye-contact, but sadly Nicolai appeared or pretended to be absent-minded.

A maid with a narrowed eye and a big pair of fluffy ears. The foxy face she had was unpleasant to look at. She brought a deep red glass bottle and two fancy goblets and put it on the table that separated them. When she tried to open the bottle, the count signaled to her to stop and to leave. He took the bottle and opened it himself while saying, at the same time:  
"Would you show me a little respect, please? Like letting me continue my sentences, at least?"

Finally, Nicolai glanced at him, but in a stern way, his pitch-dark eye foreshadowed a degree of resentment: "I beg your pardon, your lordship!″

The Count filled the two cups with crimson liquid and decided to change the subject:

"What do you think of the changes in aesthetic I have made in the whole house, less gloomy and more natural? I know we have a completely different taste..."

"Are all the workers and maids you keep here under a pact of slavery,... right?"

Nicolai asked, recalling the person who had meddled with the destiny he had chosen. Then he heard the Count attempting to correct him. His sound had an unpleasant tone:

"No... No... this is out of my concern, Seaben takes care of all the trivial matters, directs this question to him..." The Count paused before he added, "Well, he told me each one is staying in this house out of his/her own will."


	3. Chapter Three : A ceremony of farewell

The knock on the dark wooden door was very persistent and so loud, with each one, a drop of dust fell on the floor. It made Rokah wake up and sneeze. The pain in his back is still vivid from the hit he stupidly took. After a massive effort, he finally sought the door and opened it.

The pig-faced lady was one of the waitresses at the tavern. Known as madam Linda. Her forehead was drenched in sweat despite the cold weather. Her features were covered with fear and uncertainty. She couldn't articulate a simple words and form a clear sentence.

Instantly, Rokah grasped the situation. It must be her little daughter, either dead or her illness get worse, more likely the first prospect. There was nothing a doctor with limited materials could do for her anymore. Nevertheless, Rokah pretended to be concerned for the sake of appearances.

They hurried to her place. When the doctor saw the girl, he didn't even need to check her pupil and pulse to confirm her death. The serene, peaceful look on her visage was enough to predict her death.  
Finally, the little girl prolonged suffering ended, and she was able to rest. Once again, for the sake of appearance, Rokah pretended to examine the girl before he shifted his head, giving her mother the hopeless look, pointing in left and right motions that her daughter was no longer considered alive.

Loud wallows escaped from the mother's sad heart, it disturbed the silence created by the cold. Rokah didn't understand her sorrow, neither had he felt it and maybe he will never do. from his perspective the mother should be happy for the ending of her daughter physical ache.  
It wasn't long since he had met this little girl, but this was the only moment when her face was free from pain and suffering, she even made this peaceful sight. Rokah thought she was better dead than being trapped between the claws of the pain.

In the agony of the moment, Rokah remembered what he had told Mr. Hendrickson about life.

"Life gives us choices". At this very instant he thought maybe he was wrong. Sometimes the only choice life will give was death and only in death, some people can find their peace.

Closing her eyes with his palm and using her sheet like a shroud to cover her face, the doctor stood up aiming for the door when he glimpsed the mother's tears, working their way to her chin, veiled by grief. He was very helpless in this kind of situations.

What was he supposed to say or do?

She lost her husband about two weeks ago because of the attacks of the Aractanthrope and now she lost her little girl to the disease. He didn't feel her loss, his heart learned to be unconcerned, for the ash can't be burned twice*, but he needed to pretend for the sake of appearance.

He let himself get close to her, and he awkwardly held her while she cried in an oppressed voice.

Later on, the doctor learned that the daughter of the pig-faced lady - Madam Linda - will be buried in a special funeral. A funeral that was decided to be held for the honor of the victims of some unknown predator who preyed on the woodcutters in the nearby forest.

For him it was perfect, and now he has a powerful reason to attend and collect information without raising suspicions.

He also heard that at the same time, a request would be held to the village lord, begging for his help against the cause of the attacks.

Rokah considered himself the only one who recognized the attacker's true identity, and he was sure that this predator will attend the funeral of his victims since there was a chance for the lord of the village to show himself.

Likewise, it will be Rokah's chance to know or maybe even meet this village owner if he chose to appear and console his subjects. Since his arrival, he has long pondered about the true identity of this person, what kind of creature he was? What kind of heart he had to create this place for unwanted mongrels and to protect it.

The frozen soil was hard to dig and to prepare the graves, the icy wind made it even harder to stand. It surprised Rokah to learn the location of the cemetery, it was behind the grand house, more accurately the cemetery was the backyard of the big manor itself.

He arrived at the spot, he asked one of the attendants about this strange location. The answer was a long explanation shortly resume; each family had its own grave and all members of one family got to be buried in the same grave. That was because his lordship wished the cemetery to be limited to his own backyard.

This lord must be sick or trapped inside the cluster of madness, who want to have a cemetery as a backyard." Rokah thought to himself.

The attendant continued his explanation that there were graves prepared specially for the workers of the manor, and they must be buried there, no matter who were their family and it was considered a great honor.

Rokah followed with his sight to where the finger of that person pointed, it indicated the location of these graves of honor. Rokah didn't believe his eyes. Wasn't this Mr. Hendrickson the one who was standing there, leaning on his cane? So he wasn't lying when he said that he was a resident of the great manor.

"Was he a worker?" Rokah wondered in silence, "Impossible he didn't give the aura of a worker, he rather had the aura of someone important, a master, a lord."

The speaker demanded Rokah's attention with the cliche cough excuse. He told him when his lordship start accepting new residents, the officials will put his name at the top of the list, the man also added that he will be the number one to give his voice so Rokah will be accepted. Because in his eyes, no, but in the eyes of all residents a doctor coming to this village was a grace from the heaven. Then before he joined his acquaintances he thanked Rokah for his assistance when he broke his arm.

The response Rokah gave him was a smile a happy one, the one he gave and will give to every person who sweet-talk him whether they meant it or not.

Finally, the regulations of burial had ended, it felt so long and Rokah became unable to feel his fingers and nose. Truly, he never grasped the meaning of funerals and why they needed long rituals.

Was it some kind of goodbye to the loved ones and family, friends and people we came to know? A way to ease the parting pain, or just to remember that we are all going to die in the end. But even so, Rokah does respect it. He hoped that there will be a person kind enough to bury him when his time comes.

He lifted his hands to his mouth and started breathing on them to gain some warmth. The snow started falling again. And the crowds started departing, however, he waited...

He wanted to check the place where he saw Mr. Hendrickson before he left. A simple move to please his curiosity about this person. It crossed his mind for a second that maybe Mr. Hendrickson was the lord of the village, but he brushed it off for several reasons. The first, why do the generous Lord wanted to commit suicide? Secondly, It was the injury in his right leg, from what he gathered, the Lord wasn't crippled.

From close observations, the graves themselves, weren't very different, but there were a lot of headstones compared to the others, and there were two that stood out. Rokah advanced, aiming to read what was written on them.

There was a script in two languages: Aramaic and Latin. The first had the name Charlotte Velvalee De Nobilis and a number 1100, the second had the number 1102 and the name Nicolai Hendrickson.


	4. Chapter Four : A predator and preys

The thick, heavy air inside the pub was warm and the smell of liquor mingled with the sweat of attendants. Chats here and there are mostly about the latest events of the attacks on woodcutters and questions about the nature of actions the lord of the village will take.

Death here wasn't a rare event, mainly due to the deformities of newborns or chronic diseases. Sometimes to a passing epidemic. But because of unknown predators, this was a red alarm. It meant that there were savages who dared to cross the great lord borders as well as to tamper within his territory. This was a dreadful crime in the eyes of the residents.

Madam Linda's eyes were swollen and red from crying. Nevertheless, she continued her work as always, serving the customers of the tavern with her coworkers and registering the travelers' names. If one of them decided to stay a couple of nights, they would arrange him a room in the connected Inn if one of them showed the desire to join the villagers as new residents. They will record all his information and arrange a room for him in a different Inn.

A deep silence took the tavern like a storm when one of the main house maids made her entrance. All attendant's eyes were in her direction, giving their full attention to her and waiting in anticipation.

She stood in front of the door, watching their faces with her narrow eyes before she advanced to the center and spoke in a loud voice: "The representation and the chief of menservants is discussing now the present case, together with his lordship, and as a first measure, I am here to collect the lists of passing travelers and the names of those who wish to join our community."

A small chatter broke in, next one of the residents shouted: "The killer is a beast, I saw him with my own eyes, he overthrows a tree by one swing with his claws."

Another one shouted: "I have seen his face, he was one of the travelers?"

Then, voices came from every corner and got mixed together into clutter. The young maid wasn't sure how to deal with the situation, a few sounds escaped her throat and blended with the background noise without clear meaning. She couldn't avoid the intense stares from the listeners, the hesitation in her voice was worrisome, when she finally mastered her will, she cried out: "They can't uphold the possibility of him being one of the passersby."

The same first resident shouted again: "This is dangerous we should close and stop welcoming newcomers."

An uproar started to break between the attendants, expressing their fears and bombarding the poor maid with a torrent of questions she couldn't answer. Finally, she decided to flee from the intolerable situation.

The individual who caused the wave of panic was sitting in his chair, drinking his beer and eyeing the expanding chaos. He murmured between his lips: "What a great coincidence, they saved me from wasting time of thinking of a way to start the wave of panic. They should have used other maid to carry her to work."

Linda put a cup of hot tea in front of her eldest daughter, which she was stiff from the earlier exposure: "I shouldn't have said anything..." The maid declared.

Linda sat near her and sought a confirmation:"so it's true. One of the travelers was the killer."

"Yes, and worst he is a metamorphic beast, I heard them talking about it when I was doing my routine." The girl paused for a while before she continued: "If my words reach the head butler I will be fired for sure, I wasn't supposed to say anything." she concealed her face with her hands, "I will be the first maid in the history of the manor to get fired."

Linda got up and stated: "Better than missing your father and sister's funeral." her voice was cold.

Chewa stormed like a mad dog throwing a cup of tea to the floor and screaming: "There is no meaning even if I attend, they won't come back to life! This stupid way of thinking was the reason, why you won't be more than a waitress in a tavern, and the reason, why my father is just a woodcutter who got himself killed. I am different from you all, I am not going to stay here in this miserable place, I am going... I am going..."

A deafening sound came from slamming the door, Linda has been already outside the room. The young maid observed her reflection in the mirror, then poured cold water all over her face in an attempt to wash her flapping heart from all lingering feelings of anger and despise toward her origin and her family...

What an ugly body and what an ugly reality, she thought...

But she had made her resolve to survive, to continue whether this mission that was assigned to her now or in her life. She gripped the list of the new residents that were lying on the floor. When she read it, she noted only two names in it, then she looked at the record of the travelers to find hundreds of names. She murmured: "No wonder only unfortunates without choice want to stay here".

And now she needed to collect herself and go to check on those unfortunate souls.

The cool air that bumped her face when the new resident opened the door of his room made her sneeze. Her eyes were also reacting, they became more red and tearful, she couldn't open them because of the intense burning.

She screamed desperately, "What is this?"

"Don't worry, it is only the fume of the leaves of eucalyptus trees." A gentle voice responded:

"What?..."

The bed had occupied half of the space in the narrow room. Chewa sat on the only chair available near the window. A wet piece of texture was set on her eye and again the same gentle voice asked her: "How are your burning eyes now?"

She lifted the texture a little to see the owner of the voice, but a blurred image with no lines puzzled her, she shouted in confusion: "I can't see."

The next thing she sensed was a pair of fingers compressing her eyes softly.

"Try to open them now." a commanding tone asked her.

The fuzzy blur image started to take shape with each movement of her eyelids. Finally, she regained her sight and a sharp image materialized of the person who was speaking to her.

The mere sight of him made her lose balance and fell on her back together with the chair. In her life, she never met someone with this guise, she didn't even think that this kind of creatures does exist.

White hair, white eyebrows and white eyelashes, a pure white like the falling snow, the only image she could think of.   
When he helped her to stand, she noticed the difference in the color of his eye; one was like light blue of the clear sky and the other a pale shade of gray. She asked him in a broken voice attempting to conceal her infatuation, but she failed to make a coherent sentence: "Am... You... Signed... Sign..."

"Miss, you should have a seat, then take a full breath. This smoke isn't noxious or it's going to hurt your eyes."

A few moments later, Chewa was perched on the chair watching this enigmatic individual trying to boil some water on the stove.

She took as much time as needed to inspect his belongings. He doesn't have a lot, yet the things that raised her curiosity, where the set of the white papers on the small tree trunk table in the corner, she noticed the grayish lines on them, shaping some bizarre pictures she couldn't understand. The bed was likewise suspicious, the mass of the sheet above it resembled a cadaver wrapped in covers.

She felt nervous, but she couldn't refuse the cup of tea that he offered her, because how can a person who looked like a blessed angel hurt people or harm anyone... Right!


	5. Chapter Five : A bitter taste of fear

"I am sorry this is the only things that I can offer as an apology."

Indeed, even his throaty voice is extremely charming, she pondered internally to herself before she stormed with an endless flood of questions like a child: "Do you draw?"

"Sometimes."

"How did you end up here?"

"I was lost searching for a place to stay and it happened to be here." His answers were quick, straightforward and didn't hold much detail. His voice was quiet and serene that made him more appealing in her eyes. She desired to know more about him.

"I don't understand, why did you end up here? Why didn't you go to Babel or Akkad? Or any other big city, where there are more choices."

"You are talking to a mongrel, my lady... No matter how big a city is, the bigotry against us is unbearable."

He said that while he raised his right hand and rolled up his sleeve, then started to remove the white bandage that was covering his arm down to his fingers. After a couple of minutes, folds began to fall, beneath it appeared a dark black skin as if it was made by charcoal, his five fingers were tailed by long sharp unguis. He stopped when he heard Chewa snapped

"You have a bone-eater arm, so what? Still, not convincing... If I am in your place I will cut it and went somewhere where there are more choices..."

Her voice was sharp, a blend of displeasure, self-pity, and envy. She lifted her both hands to show him, they had only three fingers and one of her arms was longer than the other. Her pointed slim nose instantly transformed into an ugly pig, chopped and her ears turned out to be more fox-like. She said like she was going to cry: "This is the kind of deformity that we can't change."

Tears start falling from her eyes again, she is trapped in this hideous body, and she can never run from this truth.

"As much as I detest my incomplete metamorphism: my right hand, my right leg, and my ..., they were the reason I am standing alive at this moment," Rokah articulated comforting her and himself at the same time.

She wiped her tears in clumsy motions. When she tried to look at him again, she saw working on the white fabric, folding it multiple times to envelop his arm and his fingers. He looked at her sincerely and continued with the same tone: "At first, it existed just in my hand, when I tried to cut my hand. It propagated to my forearm, then to the upper arm. You can never cut a bone-eater. This birthmark is like a curse. I don't remember how many times I tried to cut it before I learned to lower its impact. Maybe that's what got me in the art of medicine in the first place. Believe my lady; Babel, Akkad, Ashur... In all of those big cities, you will take your misfortunes no matter where you go."

Listening to his calm voice, Chewa felt that she has transcended her boundary. Her emotions got the better of her. Possibly the death of her father and little sister had a big impact on her more than she wanted to admit. Perhaps, that was why she screwed everything till now starting from causing mass panic in the pub, the stupid fight with her mother to the burst of emotions in the front of a man she met about minutes ago. She felt a shame and chose to alter the course of the talk to something lighter: "Why do you use this leaves' fume? I mean it makes the air hard to breathe and it burns the eyes."

"Not really! It only burns the eyes of those who were crying."

Chewa blushed at his statement, she was an easy girl to read, maybe very naive or just very young. Her foxy face had nothing to do with the craftiness of foxes.

She sought to clarify herself by telling him the purpose of her visit, then she brought out the list of the new accepted residents and tried to pronounce his name: "Mr. Ro-ka-h... Rokah!"

"Yes! Correct, you are very impressive, not every one of us can read."

The young maid face became extremely red, nerveless she continued the reading to impress him more, but she was startled; "No family name!"

He wore a sad smile, "Sadly, No."

She looked at him with tenderness and affection demonstrating that she sympathized with his circumstance. While the pictures of her family danced into her memory and made her grief bleed. She refrained from wailing and proceeded with a voice close to breaking:

"In the name of the Count Francis Leal Di Montez, I am here to inform you about the acceptance of your demand of joining the Di Montez Manor."

A minute of silence followed the declaration of the statement, Rokah signed his name on the list and before the young maid stepped out from the room, he wanted to ask her help to find a place where he could get white papers to draw. But, he halted. The silent tears that flow like rivers from her tired eyes made her so beautiful, so vibrating, even more, the mask he was wearing.

***

After a while, Rokah found himself drifting away, blending slowly into the guise of this village and the life between its residents, starting to forget everything about his goals, motivations, and his epic quest for what he thought was his salvation.

His original reasons and plans that bring him, here are now fading away and the idea to reside in this place begin to roam in the back of his head.

This sense of belonging overwhelmed him. He had truly become a part of the community, yet the verity of his situation permanently snapped him back to the real world, continually reminding him of what he truly is.

Soft taps on his back took cast him outside these thoughts, he recognized the person behind him from the sweet odor that tatted his nose, then he asked her a superficial question to hide his real goal: "How was work?"

She lowered her head and let her ears rise; she answered him with spasmodic disarticulated words: "Not... Very... Good... I am dismissed... For the time being..."

After, she lifted her head he could see the disappointment all over her face. He could be careless about the reason. She is the kind of worker who will spite all the detail about what's going on inside the manor. She probably will get fired sooner than later. Maybe the rumors about "no dismissed workers from the Manor" were wrong.

There was no point to approach here now. However, what raised his curiosity was the reason for her employment in the first place. He wondered about the requirements for a person to work directly with this Lord.

He tried to melt the ice a little and asked again: "How long were you working in the main house?"

"About two years..."

The short answer that she gave him was enough to understand that any pressing in this direction won't get him far thus he shifted the dialogue:

"I thought that you are going to show me around?" He gazed at her face, then added: "Or maybe my company won't make you forget about your worries, even for a second?"

Her ears twisted to hide her narrow eyes, then she preceded him by a few steps before she said with a cheerful voice "I will show you where you can find the paper".

He felt like he was a hypocrite; well, he was a hypocrite and a liar. These were the only effective method he had learned to use, it always brings him remorse whenever he meets someone who can't characterize the situations like Chewa.

He was vigilant, giving one ear to Ms. Chewa blabbers, and the other for the locals in an attempt to localize the whereabouts of the Aractanthrope. However, when they reached their final destination, the person they had sighted was Mr. Nicolai Hendrickson.

Rokah knew that Mr. Hendrickson was short-sighted, yet he spotted them right away as if he was waiting for them.

In the near future, Rokah confirmed that this meeting with Mr. Hendrickson wasn't by accident.

He felt uneasiness coming from Ms. Chew, hence stole a few picks. She was stoned, her nose started to deform taking the shape of the pig's nose. Her face was a mix of surprise and fear.

By means of prior observations, he had learned two things about her; when she is depressed or embarrassed she loses control over her ears when she is afraid she loses control over her nose.

Rokah set in front of a wooden table, using his left hand as pillar to sustain his head, his eyes were wandering in the void, his head empty.sounds seemed far, far away from him as if he was lost in another world.

When Mr. Hendrickson asked him how he was doing, Rokah just shifted his line of vision toward his face but his mind still blank.

Rock has been always proud of his extra sense to detect a nearby threat. But it has never been alerted to the point of confused...

It never ringed with this force, even when he was in front of the Aractanthrope, yet he did not sense anything when he first met Mr. Hendrickson.


	6. Chapter Six : A heartfelt conversation

Mr. Hendrikson placed his trilby black hat to his left side and laid his cane on the seat next to him. Then he adjusted his posture to face the speaker in front of him, and with a genuine smile he asked: “How are you doing?”

Unfortunately, the albino before him looked absent-minded, with his eyes looming into space as if there was a particular unknown force pulling him away.

He asked again: “It seems that I have uninterrupted something...”

Mr. Hendrickson never lost his way with words, always knowing how he should start a conversation, how he should manipulate the other party to get what he sought. However, It’s hard to confront someone who has witnessed him in his weakest moments, someone who witnessed him devoid of all those faked layers of pretense that he was wrapping his true self in. Someone who tried to save him despite that he didn’t know about him, about his status, his desires, and the worst he stupidly succeeded.

Although he got these heterochromatic eyes to look at him, he perceived that he didn’t hold Rokah full attention.

Something felt there was something wrong about the enigmatic young doctor; he wasn’t the confident person whom he had met.

“I think that my presence is not welcomed,” he added, referring to the maid that he barely remembered her existence and why she left suddenly.

“I think she just was afraid...”

The doctor said while bringing the milk cup to his mouth, taking glances at Mr. Hendrikson through an invisible wall, His voice was cold and distant, denoted the caution that ruled the interaction between them.

Mr. Hendrickson didn’t grasp why his speaker being so reserved toward him this time. Where was that all concerned, heart warming person he had met?

"She works at the manor, you reside at the manor... I think you can understand the rest."

“Oh," Mr. Hendrikson said as he chuckled. "I fear that this gave you a wrong impression about me.” He paused to take a breath and to steal glimpses of his surroundings, then continued: “I am not her patron, neither I am concerned about those whom they don’t follow the regulations.”

Before he could finish his words, he heard intense coughing coming from the direction of the doctor who spilled the milk on the table. It came to him that maybe the doctor had heard a bad rumor about him...

No, the percentage of this possibility was low. He has long been forgotten by this village, his legacies all gone and his glories completely died.

A couple more minutes passed in silence, he gazed at the doctor sweeping the table with a piece of texture and wondering why did he come to see him again?

The truth was simple, he needed someone to converse with far off from the manor, and he chose this stranger. Or maybe this stranger chose him?

Weren’t people who feel oppressed by life, find the condolence in each other.

"To be honest, My lord, I was wondering why I followed you that night."

The stasis Nicolai had sensed earlier was melted at the doctor last words. It was as if he returned to himself and finally, the stagnant air between them started flowing. Further, the doctor sound was less gloomy when he added: "It was all in my misinterpretation, I believe.”

“Why you followed me that night?” Nicolai asked urgently. His face indicated a degree of eagerness and fearfulness from a possible deviation of the subject. He concentrated on the color of the heterochromatic eyes, waiting for an answer.

Rokah, after he emptied what remained of milk in his cup and after some deep reflection, he said: “You bear a resemblance to someone I know, ...”

The looks in the doctor’s eyes took another dimension. It was difficult for him to articulate his words before he finally declared: ”... , my... Father.”

“Your father...?” Nicolai echoed, shaking his head, showing a look of awareness as if all the interjections found their place in his head.

“He is dead. ...” The doctor said, eyes down. And breath after breath, the stasis has returned anew.

A minute after, The seat moved away from the table as the doctor stood up departing.

Nicolai didn’t object he just was satisfied with this little confession. He took the hat in his hand feeling the fabric between his fingers and enjoying the new connection that he made. Before he got out, the doctor inspected him, his look was serious, then he declared: "Mr. Hendrickson, I think that maid was really afraid of you..."

***

Rokah interrupted tour with one of the official maids didn’t go fruitless. He successfully located the whereabouts of one of his problems.

His first line in dealing with problems was to confront them.

"How did you find me?" the man asked, giving his back. He was using a large ax to cut a tree trunk.

"Your scent is strong around this area. I thought why not I will give you a visit and maybe we can talk about what you need..." Rokah responded in a causal manner, avoiding showing any fears.

Though the Aractanthrope pretended that he did not care about the doctor presence, by detecting a few subtle signs, Rokah concluded that it perplexed him. Considering he never expected his location to be found by a worthless mongrel.

Rokah loves when people underestimate him, and he loves more when he crushes their expectations. It gives him a sense of some sort of temporary superiority. And it made them respect him, even by a little, even for a while. He always needed a certain degree of respect if he was going to work for someone against his free will.

One final strike with an ax, then the giant tree fell, leaving a storm of snow dust to swallow the two of them.

The Aractanthrope is showing off, and Rokah is showing off too.

This was the sacred way to establish boundaries between living beings. It showed the limits that they should never cross. Despite, the fact that Rokah limits were narrow. He must show his worth, or else.

Aractanthrope glared at him while leaning on the ax handle. Rokah wanted to interrupt this intense eye contact, but he needed to stay determined if he wanted to save some of his dignity.

After a few minutes of silence, the Aractanthrope stated with a smug face ‘It’s not like you have another choice!’

Rokah chest contracted to hear another sad truth. He calmed himself with the thoughts of no matter what, there is always a way to get benefits from any situation. Hence, he ignored his sense of self-pity to get to the more important matter and stated. “Before I will infiltrate the main house, I need something in return.”

Rokah paused to detect any sign of objection, then he continued when he felt safe. “I need meat... Fresh meat, At least every week.”

Roka noticed the curved eyebrows, the narrowed eyes of the Aractanthrope, he understood that he wanted to know why, so he recited the prepared lie “I am a carnivore, that’s what makes me different from the other mongrels...”

There were several rumors about carnivorous mongrels who possess certain redeeming abilities, therefore the lie wasn’t completely inaccurate.

It seemed that it was believed by the Aractanthrope. Given that he turned around, then he raised his ax to continue his work.

Rokah took the opportunity and fixed his vision to the man-body. Backing off a few steps, he was terrified to turn around and surprised at the same time, pondering why did the beast accept his condition so easily and why he is cutting the wood?...

Playing a woodcutter...

This monster is not all muscles without a brain as he first thought.

He felt a surge of terror taking a hold of his heart. This village is a nest to dangerous folks whom are lurking under its calm surface.

Who is this man? Why he is here? He needed to disclose those questions he wanted to survive until the melting of the snow.

Observing carefully the movements of this man going back and forth while retreating, an irregularity in the sequence of his motion has captured Rokah concern... Made his lips bend over in wide subtle grin. Just now, the idea that popped into his mind.

He murmured into his heart in ecstasy “Maybe, there is a way to kill him”.

The road to his room was never shining as it is now; everything was glittering despite the heavy dark clouds. He opened the door with enthusiasm and proceeded to prepare a soup with what He has brought, then He checked His patient, giving him a full examination before He started feeding him. At the same time, he was calculating his next move...

Should he prepare to kill the Aractanthrope? Or should he use him first?

A strong hammering on the door disturbed his calculations. It was Madam Linda's voice from the other side and it was desperate.

Two terrified persons received him when he opened the door. They waved to him with their hand to follow them.

Rokah was too immersed in his world to actually decipher the situation or more accurately to want to understand what they wanted.

The sight of the mutilated corpse of Chewa under one of the pine trees made his heart sliding between his ribs. It was in the same exact manner that the bodies of the woodcutters have been cut.

Impossible! He thought. They were together just a few hours ago...

Could it be the Aractanthrope? No way...

He approached the mutilated body, and he started inspecting the remains in hope to estimate the date of the death.


	7. Chapter Seven : A moment of reflection

The Count Di Montez walked into the study room, behind, followed by his butler carrying a set of files. Although a multiple lantern were luminous, a touch of darkness surrounded the big room. Books and painting's frames were crooked into the left corner, whereas a big desk jammed on the opposite side. The Count walked into the middle, toward the white grand piano then felt its keys. A rusted sound filled the place.

The butler placed the files on the desk and asked after a soft bow: "Sir, should I send someone to tidy the study?"

"No." the count answered before he reached the desk to inspect the files. He raised his head to add: "This is temporary, keeping it clean is enough."

He took a seat then looked at his butler "those are all the files of the residents from five years ago?"

"Yes. Sir."

"You can go then."

The chief manservant stood there, defying his master order, the hair on his face masked his intentions, but the count already knows what it means when his servant didn't do what he was ordered. He examined him hopelessly before he demanded an explanation" what's on your mind?"

The servant seemed hesitating but the assuring look of his master gave him the courage to spill his worry. He used a careful tone to reveal what was in his mind:

"Excuse me, sir, are you sure that we let that man roaming freely in the manor and the village. He is dangerous."

"I assure you Seaben, He is very much hopeless, restricting him anymore is useless. He practically can't do anything, he can't even get outside this village without your permission. Our top worries now are this popped up a new problem. We must find out what is this thing spreading fear and chaos inside the village. How does it get inside through your barrier?"

"But, Sir..."

"I don't want to hear more until we identified him." The count said as a strange idea walloped his mind. Perhaps, the preparator didn't pass the barrier.

The Butler understood that there is no further discussion on the matter, he has just withdrawn silently, but a call from the Count stopped him "Seaben... I am thirsty."

Seaben descended to the hallway not very satisfied with his master growing indifference to the activities of Mr. Hendrickson. He ordered the first maid he encountered to tend to the Count need, and then he attended the anticipated meeting with the new potential employee. The estate had lost one worker, he needed to fill up the void before the young lady wakes up.

When he met the candidate for the post, it crossed his mind that maybe the young lady will like to feast for her first time on this person than the ugly maid that the manor had lost.

He asked him for his name. A very important part of Seaben routine. Since names were related to identity and are gate to the self. Depend on it, he chose the ones who were suitable to work under his control.

The answer was fast and polite, but when the young man didn't mention his family name, Seaben realized that this is the famous doctor who settled here a few months ago.

He thought to himself that people with an unknown origin make an optimal offering

He asked him again why he wanted to join the manor:

\- His lordship accepted me when the world had rejected me, I wish to repay him.

What a shallow lie, all of them came to the manor on the promise of a better life, a better opportunity, and the dream to go outside one day. But it was a smart answer compared to the others before him.

The chief manservant sat behind his desk, he dipped the quill in the inkwell in front of him and said without a delay: "You will start working on the next full moon, we will first teach you the basics, after that, you get a proper assignment and you need to sign some papers before you can move here permanently."

***

For an indefinite reason, Chew death has a hard impact on Rokah.

His movements became slow, going through his routine seemed meaningless. He felt like there is a glued monster working to bind him to his room. The pictures of the mutilated body kept floating between his eyes.

In this life, He has seen a lot of corpses, yet he was still weak when he sees a corps of people he has interacted with. Persons with whom he weaved a small thread of connection. He was afraid to confront Madam Linda, to offer her his condolences or at least to pretend to, maybe because he felt he was responsible for her loss.

He stood up alerted when He smelled the scent of the Aractanthrope behind the door. It was mixed with the intoxicating odor of blood. He opened the door to see him carrying something wrapped in linen fabric on his left shoulder.

The big man placed the load on the floor before he sat on the only chair in the room, then he asked: "it is better that you have accomplished your side of the deal."

Rokah said while unloading the fresh meat from the fabric that wrapped it "the infiltration was a success, I will start working there the next full moon."

"Then you were inside the manor, did you notice something wrong there? Anything?"

Rokah shifted his full body to face him. The Aractanthrope was indifferent to the entire incident. Of course, he was. Mongrel's life and death didn't mean anything to him. Rokah clutched his fist responding to his questions with another question:" have you heard about the death of one of the manor maids? Was it you?"

The large man stood up causing the chair to fall on the floor. He reached to Rokah neck and lifted him a few inches from the ground, constricting his grip with each passing moment.

The doctor' back screamed with pain after he got crushed to the ground, he was gasping for breath and started coughing heavily. The Aractanthrope told him, using the same arrogant tone: "I am being nice, very nice by respecting the conditions you have set, don't forget that I am not obligated to do so. And you are in no place to question me."

He aimed at the door and before he opened it, he appended:" do not ever forget your place or this miserable life of yours will end painfully."

Rokah waited for him until he pounded the door. He waited for the echoes of his footsteps to disappear before got up on his foot. He confirmed the reason behind the unreasonable aggression this man had shown for simple interaction, not just now but before too. He is insecure about his disability, and he acted aggressively to hide his insecurity.

Working with this kind of individual is wearying, that's why the thought to kill the man roamed the back of Rokah mind and was growing with each passing encounter. But in being honest, this behavior wasn't what it ticked Rokah off, it was the discrimination the Aractanthrope has showed each occasion was what irked him the most.

He made him remember his hopelessness. He made him remember his inferiority. Which made the innate desire to kill this man growing in his heart with each passing encounter. He was going to show him what it meant, to lose to someone he disdained, and he will be sure to make his death very slow and painful.

Before the sunrise, Rokah made his resolve to meet Madam Linda. His heart was beating frenzy, His chest drumming hardly as if he were preparing to start a war. He wanted to see Madam Linda, to give her more than condolences; to give her what he thought was her revenge, her salvation from those endless massacres.

And there, In front of the gate, his eyes scanned the hordes of mourners looming in and out from her tiny room that was annexed to the inn. He felt superior to them all because he could offer this old Lady who lost everything more than words of pity.

He approached with slow pace searching for her small body, between all those mourners. He sighted her leaning against the wall, with open eyes like a lifeless doll that lost every bit of courage to live. He forgot the words that he had prepared to tell her.

In that instant, Madam Linda trapped in the flood of sorrow was a reflection of himself, a mirror to his soul reflecting his inner turmoil, his losses and his faded memories of his grandmother's face when the blood splattered on her dead body, the same memorable eyes and the smell of wet soil.


	8. Chapter Eight : A pact of slavery

The compacted words on the white paper were written in Latin. Rokah concentrated on the black ink, attempting to read the sentences. They didn't make a sense, at least to him.

The tall male with reddish hair was standing behind him. Rokah looked at him and snapped: "I am not signing those papers, this is not a job. This is pure slavery…"

"This is not slavery if you are going to sign it with your own free will."

Rokah narrowed his eyes questioning the logic behind these words. While calming himself by letting the air with the jasmine fragrance fill his lungs. His mind wandered, searching for memory about this fragrance and where he had smelled it before. Snapping back his attention to the present situation under the voice of this creature urging him to hurry and sign the contract, Rokah anger and disdain returned. There is no way he was going to sign out his freedom twice.

Moving away from the desk, he placed the pencil on the papers and declared mastering the coolest tone he could manage: "Take the condition 17, 18, 19 and 23 from the contract, then I will sign it."

Rokah felt the hair on his head squirm from the tightness in his scalp. Blood pulsed through his neck as the anger boiled his brain. He commanded this growing discomfort while reaching to the entrance of the study room. His growing desire to know the identity of Mister Benefactor flayed away after reading the conditions of the contract. The truth was simple and clear "Mister Benefactor was just Mister Slaver."

He doubted it from the beginning, yet he still searched for some hope in life.

In the end, the creatures who were hated by fate, there was no place for them… No one will help them just for the sake of helping them, because angels didn't exist, a verity that he has learned a long time ago, the hard way.

The previously clouded image in his head was cleared instantly. So, being a resident here make you a half slave, being a resident in the main house make you – with your own will- a fully-fledged slave.

Even if Rokah was mad and angry at this Mr benefactor. The lord of the manor was actually smart, no, he was brilliant at using the misfortune of others for his benefits without triggering their rage. He also gave them the illusion of being their benefactor.

There was no benefit for him to get hired in the manor anymore. He needed to find another method to get what he wanted, and there was no option better than reviving his old skill.

At noon, Rokah went to Chewa's funeral. The cemetery was as he left it. Gloomy, cold and it soils hard to dig in because of the frost. The second biggest irony, he saw today was that damn monster drilling Chewa's grave. He froze from afar observing the Aractanthrope movements just to confirm, and again, he can spot the anomaly in his motions, it made him hardly hold that that ruptured smile…

"Doctor! I never heard your opinion about that man?"

Rokah turned to his right following the source of the voice. Not just because of the question. The petrichor odor - the earthy scent produced when rain falls on a dry soil- tackled his sense of smell. Rokah blinked in disbelief, then he scolded the man who stood near him using a flat voice: "What are you doing here in this cold weather?"

"Following your advice, Doctor…"

The man accent filled with sarcasm and Rokah relished at its tune. When a powerful individual tries to ridicule a person weaker than him it meant that he is trying to hang on to the only straw that holds his pride. But no matter what, a doctor has to be virtuous to his recovering patients, regardless of their identity or origin. Right...

A Lycanthrope, a gravely injured Lycanthrope in the convalescence phase and an Aractanthrope in the same narrow space. They must never confront each other, or his cover will be blown. Yet Rokah found another reason to kill the big man. If anything goes wrong, he should get rid of the subject of his current experiment - Lycanthrope- and all his work on regeneration have to stop.

As Rokah resumed his thoughts, he told the wolf in a voice filled with faked concern: "I am glad that you can walk on your feet, my long hours spent nursing you bear its fruit."

"Well, I paid a dear price for it."

The doctor stole a few glances at his face, then lowered his sight to the frozen soil under his staled boots and said after a moment of contemplation: "In life, nothing comes for free."

Rokah never asked about his name, He never felt the needs to do. He was just wondering what it went in his mind when they halted side by side watching the ceremony of burial.

The annotation about each Metamorph has a take after his beastly morph was true. The wolf wasn't very tall or massive compared to the Aractanthrope, just one inch or two taller than the average mongrel. He was pale and thin, the outcome of a long time in a coma.

"Isn't that our buddy?" the wolf inquired about the extended bulky man, using his index finger to bring the doctor focus to the target. Rokah slapped his hand away using a small force, then whispered: "Are you mad? If he found about your existence you will be as good as dead."

The wolf didn't look convinced by the doctor argument, which caused his face to contort with rage and regret about all those white nights that he devoted to nursing this animal. Most doctors hated to invest in undisciplined patients whom they threw the efforts of their doctors out the window.

The wolf bent to reach Rokah ear and whispered, in the same manner, "did you notice it? I guess you noticed it."

Rokah stared at him while he adjusted his position and stowed his hands under his armpits to warm them. He lifted his eyes and caught Rokah looking at him, thus He smirked and said: "if you didn't notice it, I won't tell you…"

A burst of soft laughter escaped the doctor mouth. He attempted to repress it by biting his lips. Then he shifted his gaze away from the wolf aware that the wolf was looking at him in doubt. He knew he was confused about this reaction. This type of immature behavior, could it be that he injured his brain too.

" Actually, you revealed yourself. You were awake when he aimed to strangle me!" Rokah tried to clear the issue. Then he faced him and added: "I guess, you wished him to kill me…"

The wolf avoided the direct eye contact and slightly inclined his head to the left before he murmured between his lips: "What are you talking about?"

"Then illuminate me, when did you learn about his sense of smell being wasted? You will never dare to approach him in this condition of yours."

The regulations of burial ended, and the last paper flower on the tomb was left by Madam Linda. The doctor retreated with the rest of the group, but as soon as he noticed his precious patient still halted there between gravestones like a scarecrow in a wheat field his heart softened for an unknown reason.

This Lycanthrope probably thinks of his fate as was worse than those who are under the earth.

For an instant, Rokah blamed himself for tricking him this way. He only desired to seal the holes in his heart. He wished to appear powerful and smart, so the world wouldn't look down on him. But after all, all the living beings are the same when it comes to despair. Appearances, origins or high birth, they all didn't matter when they sink into this sloppy nasty swamp of despair.

Having a moment of self-reflection, Rokah never considered himself a doctor, he was more like a despicable individual who will use his knowledge to navigate the dark ocean called "life". And if some chose to give him a title, and treat him the way this title implies, it was their fault.

The coldness of the breeze was like a sedative drug. Rokah fingers were like iron bars, heavy and hard to move, yet he managed to poke the standing man in his left shoulder. The response he has scored from him was more like a confession: "You want me to kill the Aractanthrope? I can have a decent fight with him, but if he morphs, there is no guarantee I could strike him down."

He said, ignoring this straightforward offer: "No, there is no point getting you killed, I only wish that you get better."

Enjoying the weird expression that painted his face with the color of disbelieving and contemplate, Rokah walked away from him following the trails on the white snow left by others. After a while, he heard his footsteps accelerating to catch up to him; somehow Rokah sensed that he wanted him to perceive his words about wanting to drink the beer.

"No, we are having some milk… it's better for the health."

Rokah could swear he heard him chuckle. He wondered what's wrong with this Lycanthrope? How far the depth of his brain injury goes. Then Rokah had a second thought and concluded that he was the one with some kind of deep injury in his soul.


	9. Chapter Nine : A lettre from the devil

The first thing Rokah founded different when he took the first step to the usual tavern was the air. Something in it smelled different and felt strange. All the chatters and arguments he used to hear exploding over the entrance were gone. And the tables that used to be full are now empty.

In a moment of realization, he remembered the frightful mist of fear in his youthful days when every breath he grasped was a blend of pain and uncertainty. The same kind of mist was wrapping this small village little by little.

From the corner of his eyes, he observed all the vacant tables while moving toward his favorite dark spot. Somehow, It was very hard for the villager to enjoy a cup of their preferred drink and a light meal after a funeral of one of the Manor maids.

This was a red signal, a warning to all of them that live here, the days of their bliss in this tiny oasis were slipping away.

Rokah began reminiscing over the obligation that brought him to this village. His first priority when he came was to employ this remote place and hid the subject of his experiment. Hid his presence from any danger until his recovery. This was the deal with that Lycanthrope, then to continue his journey to the south after he has paid his debt.

But in this life, nothing was simple or worked as he planned it. There were always those kinds of matters that kept him moving in never-ending circles, trapping him like a fly. And they always involved one or two dangerous predators.

The seat made the same irritating noise when he threw his weight on it and the table swing in unregulated motion. Rokah leaned on the palm of his hand using his elbow as support on the surface of the wooden table. His eyes were fixated on who is supposed to be his patient.

Rokah stares were like a piercing arrow in dark silence.

The Lycanthrope didn't speak, he just tried to confront his - supposed - doctor stares by looking back at him in the same manner.

Rokah could hardly make the details of his face, yet these glossy eyes were squeezed from all the sarcasm and competent that was masked through the earlier playful words.

"What… do you want from me? ¨. The wolf inquired, moving his pupil to look far beyond the doctor, far at the other end of the set of tables. Then he added before the doctor could answer.

"You don't want me to help you kill the bear?"

The flow of current made Rokah muscles trembled. He wasn't ready for this encounter between two Metamorph, not yet.

Apparently, the Aractanthrope was following the two of them. And Rokah didn't notice him or even detected his odor. He stood up in a hurry, no turning around the bush any more than he signaled with his left hand to the waitress to bring some booze to the table that he intended to change sit to.

Rokah couldn't help himself but notice the man hands. They were dirty from the act of digging the soil this morning, there were also some scratches on his fingers. Rokah preferred to not sit down, afraid that the Aractanthrope will take this action as an act of disrespect, the impact of the last time visit.

The first thing the big man asked about when the booze had arrived was Rokah's companion that he had left alone.

The doctor didn't have a choice but to tell him the truth. He said that he was the same corpse witnessed on the bed in the room.

The Aractanthrope gave a nod of understanding, but never moved his gaze away from the man. His eyes had a trace of mistrust. But he didn't ask for more time being. His head was filled with something else…

After Rokah got the permission to sit- of course with the excuse to not bring up attention- the Aractanthrope asked him the real question. The information that he sought the most, the same information that Rokah resolved to use as bait to diverge his attention more:

"How did it go?"

"There is a Magus, who regulates a pact of slavery, every worker in the manor must have signed it. I am not sure if he can do more."

For some unknown reasons, Rokah didn't fathom the action of the Aractanthrope when he didn't touch the booze he has ordered. He was being cautious and wary of someone who couldn't be a possible threat to him.

Was he afraid of being poisoned? Rokah murmured in his head.

Another person's shadow landed on them. Rokah perceived it to be the waitress, but the elegant black and white custom and the refined behavior made him realize that she was one of the manor maids. She handed him a letter sealed with a red wax stamped in the middle with a symbol of jasmine flower. Before she retired, He asked her marveled "Is this letter for me?"

She smiled at him and said "Yes." with a voice as if she has a sugar candy stuck in her mouth.

The maid opened a door to a large room, then she referred to the person who was behind her and signaled to him to enter the room before her.

An elegant voice came from inside: "Please… enter."

When the maid entered the room, she bowed respectfully before she guided the guest to the place where he should sit down. Mr. Hendrickson praised her again:

"Thank you Bi-an, please bring us some tea."

"Yes, sir."

After the maid quieted the room, Mr. Hendrickson turned the attention to his guest who was still standing up. He gave him a friendly smile, not like the ones that he usually gives to the friends, but rather the sort that he gives to his accomplices. Then he waved with his right hand to give him permission to sit.

"You are wondering about my invitation? I have heard that you got an invitation from the majordomo to join the service in the manor?" Mr. Hendrickson asked while making himself comfortable on the seat in front of his talker. He placed his cane on the coffee table, and when he didn't hear the answer, he tried to use different terminology: "The head butler; I mean!"

The albino mongrel reclined and lifted his chin, then replied like a mechanical doll: "Yes…"

"Did you accept it?"

Rokah felt as if this was the first time he has truly met Mr. Hendrickson, the first time he has seen his true face, and all the past occasions that they spent conversing together were a merely a facade, a faked facade of this person.

He remembered him trying to kill himself, depressed, pitiful…

The second time he met him. He wasn't sure about his life and his situation. Yet he emitted such power as well as a dangerous Aurora…

And now he is completely another person, It was so astonishing how fast he recovered his sanity.

Rokah's sense of danger never failed him before. The moment that he entered this room he felt that he was having his foot inside the den of monsters.

Was this man a friend? A foe?

Could it be that he made a big mistake acting like a hero and stopping him from taking his own life?

Was it better for him to let this creature die on that stormy day?

Only the upcoming days can determine if Rokah had made a good or a bad choice.

When he perceived the question the sound of his six sense ranged in the back of his head with piercing calls, alerting him for some unknown reason. Therefore, Rokah hesitated to answer.

The question appeared rational. It is perfectly normal that Mr. Hendrickson heard about the invitation that Rokah has secured to work here since he lived here.

But why Rokah was feeling this awkward sensation that it was wrong to answer this inquiry. That there is some trap…

Mr. Hendrickson repeated: "Have you accepted it?"

Rokah couldn't think clearly, his mind got blank. It is one of those moments when he needed his brain so much, however, it failed him. So he chose to go with the truth.

"No," Rokah said while his gaze was locked into Mr. Hendrickson's eyes of an invisible chain prevent him to think. And the intimidating way Mr. Hendrickson looked at him made him want to say more, to explain why he has refused the invitation.

But Rokah resisted to not reveal himself. Hence, he repeated his answer using a long sentence: "No, I had refused."

Suddenly, Rokah perceived a glass-shattering sound coming from behind the door. And felt like the locking spell was dissolved. He held himself to not stand and fly, but pretended to search for the cause of the sound. Then someone opened the door:

"I apologize for the disturbance, I will bring you the tea right away," Bi-an said from the door.

Rokah thought that this maid was well-mannered, elegant and professional. She didn't hit as the kind of clumsy maids who made this rookie mistake in front of her master and his guest. He brushed this event like it was a coincidence. However, he will Come to regret this; dearly in the near future.

"Why? Isn't it a good opportunity?" Mr. Hendrickson threw this question. And Rokah anticipated it from a mile. He won't fall for the same trick a second time.

Rokah thought maybe this was the reason for this invitation all along. Mr. Hendrickson wanted to know why he refused the offer. And Rokah didn't want to lie, he also came here in hope to gain something too. If not for collecting the pieces of information, he wouldn't be sitting in his room.

Right now, he needed to answer this question cleverly without revealing anything on his side. Saying: "My hands are full" or "For the sake of my patient" sounded very cheesy and suspicious.

"My family has worked in a big house like this before, It was just a slavery, besides I am very content with my place and work here."

Mr. Hendrickson was really attentive while listening to the response, then he followed up: "Yes, doctors here are rare gems, there is no fear that you are going to die from hunger." Then he gave one of his a painted smile that is hard to decipher the meaning behind it. After that, he walked near the window where there was a drawing board rested on the wall. He stood near it and said: "It came to me that you need some drawing material. ¨ then he pointed to the board. After that, he continued: "I hope, it will be enough¨.

Rokah approached him taking a close look at the whiteboard murmuring into his heart "Impossible that he invited me just to give me the board… ¨ then looked at him trying to paint the expression of the thankfulness on his face.

Mr. Hendrickson smiled at the pretense and said: "After all, you are going to draw a portrait for me! Right!"

He was not the devil. Yet at this moment Rokah felt like he was the most dreadful creature in the world.


	10. Chapter Ten : A forlon melody to foes

It was midday yet the dark cloud made it look like midnight.

He stood in front of one of many tombs holding a paper flower in his right hand. He crashed it between his finger into a distorted ball before he addressed the man in front of him: "Thank you for following me."

The big man who was stationed a few steps away crossed his arms and asked: "What is the meaning of this?"

The cold air has blown the scattered leaves in sequential circles, and with it, a consecutive vibration of words come out from the man who held the paper flower: "Shall we introduce ourselves, first."

The Aractanthrope approached his speaker, eyes narrowed. He clenched his fist making his blood vessels protrude over his skin. He hated Lycanths, he hated lone Lycanth more and never believed in their words. Most of them were racist, arrogant bastards. And this one standing in front of him proved his perspective.

He screamed: "What do you want?"

The moment he witnessed the golden eyes, with the vertical shaped pupils, He grasped that he was in the company of a Lycanthrope that didn't bother to hide his identity. And this conduct puzzled him.

Preparing to push him away using his full force in anticipation of an upcoming attack. Yet the Lycanthrope didn't show any signs of aggressiveness or strife, he just walked some steps away, conserving the safe distance between them before he said:

"Don't rush, alone Amarok doesn't have a chance in front of a Kerit, let us talk first."

The big man still in position for an attack, and even though the Lycanthrope was right, there was no proof that this Lycanth was alone. He was wondering how this Lycanth entered the village despite the protective defense that surrounded it. That mongrel must have discovered a method to temper with village defenses. But what he is doing with a Lycanthrope?

"What a Lycanthrope doing with a mongrel?"

"Ah... Do you mean the doctor?… it happened that I am one of his patients."

After this ambiguous answer, the Lycanthrope raised his hands in the air to present his peaceful intent and started reducing the distance slowly: "rather saying, I am just one of his victims, he is not what he appears to be".

The Aractanthrope didn't seem pleased by this move, his fangs appeared from the end of his fingers, and his canines begin to grow more visible.

To ease the situation the Lycanth tried to persuade the agitated predator: "If I didn't show myself you have never learned about my existence…"

The Aractanthrope didn't look very convinced, but he didn't make any move thus the Lycanth took the opportunity and continued: "Lets us talk first… you can call me Uriah…"

The Lycanthrope introduced himself to make the air between them a little bit warmer. And it seemed that he succeeded to some degree. The grimaces on the big man face have softened slightly, and the tension in his muscles lowered before he started to curse: "That damn mongrel, he was hiding a Lycanth all this time!"

"Ah… you mean the doctor!… yes, he even made you hunt for me." Uriah confirmed and attempted to rub the salt on the wound.

The Aractanthrope snarls begin again, but this time they were more violent…

After he blurted the last sentence and from the big man's response, Uriah thought that it was better if he left this fact for a later when its effect won't be directed at him. He had always trouble choosing the right time for the right words, and now the little progress that he succeeded to form with his natural hater was disturbed. After all, Aractanthropes didn't tolerate Lycanthropes by nature design and vice versa. However, this was a special circumstance and Uriah must overcome this chasm.

The large man was breathing heavily with rage. Frankly displaying his displeasure. He was very confident in the difference between their muscle mass. Yet his opponent didn't show a sign for a defense, he only shouted: "I am on your side, fighting each other is what that man's desire."

***

The knock on the door didn't stop regardless of the number of times, the Count resolved to ignore it. He raised his head from a load of papers and answered annoyed: "You can enter…"

Seaben stood near the desk and said in his usual Stoic voice: "Sir, ! There is something important I need to report it to you immediately."

Francis's eyes narrowed, he completely understood his butler and know exactly this important matter was about Hendrickson.

"How about the more important matter I have asked you to check in." The count responded while he still was looking at the papers in his hands. And When he did not hear his servant's voice. He observed him from the angle of his eyes, then said: "What is it?"

"Thank you, sir. I have noticed lately strange and suspicious activities from the side of your guest, Mr. Hendrickson…"

The ringing sound of this name made the Count raise his head towards the butler and observe him intensely, with wide eyes looming to the void as if he was in a moment where he finally connected all the dots. Then he snapped suddenly to the reality to find his butler looking lost on him.

The Count said simultaneously while he used his hand to indicate the forwarding sign: "Continue…."

The butler seemed unsure about the well-being of his master, but he continued anyway: "He isn't making the move personally rather he is using his manservant to accomplish his unknown desires. He even arranged a meeting with the new resident." he paused, then continued: "Behind your back.'

The count returned to the papers in front of him, and then he lifted one from the set and bring it to the edge of his desk for his butler to see what was written in it.

Seaben panicked scanning the letter without reading it, not understanding the meaning behind this movement. The count screamed at him: "Read!... Can't you read, it's Aramaic?"

"Yes, sir!..." The butler tilted his head and tried to decipher the words that were written on the paper. After a silent moment, The count snapped…. His white canine never looked longer or brighter. Then he said: "Do you understand the meaning of this?, How did this escaped your watch, unless you aren't doing your work. "

Seaben only deduced that this was a warning notice

"I seized this village for months now, why do you think I am getting this message at this moment?… Or do you also think that this is Nicolai doing…? If so, then you have failed the sole important responsibility I have assigned it to you."

Seaben stayed silent.

"Any news about the Aractanthrope? Do you think he is the one who sent the threatening letter? Or should we go and ask Hendrickson?" The count asked, from the tone of his voice the question wasn't directed to his butler, it was just his habit of thinking loudly.

He hurled the paper after he tore it into pieces, then he smacked the desk with his hands while standing. He gave Seaben a serious look and a nod that meant to follow him.

With fast-paced steps, the two of them walked across the corridor. The count took the lead and his butler followed behind. They ascended the stairs in inpatient angry motion before the count stopped suddenly to the sound of music.

Afterward, he drew slowly near the source, to find himself at the back of the door of the study room, where the sound of the music came from. He was shocked when he saw the player.

Both of them were shocked. When they saw Nicolai playing the grand piano.

The count didn't move for a moment either his butler. The song played… until Mr. Hendrickson was alerted by their presence.

The count walked close to him fixing his sight on his face, and he raged in a calm voice: "It's been so long since I heard you playing."

Nicolai watched as the count eyes color turning redder and redder and his iris were getting darker.

"Celebration?…" The Count inquired forcing a smile on his lips.

"Can I learn the reason that stirred your displeasure?" Nicolai asked, not shifting his face to avoid those piercing sights.

The count extended his right hand towards his butler who was holding a patched piece of paper demanding to hand it then he said: "Can I understand the meaning of this?"

Nicolai sighted in boredom, then he took the paper to read it before he commented: "A threatening letter!"

"Woh, I am illiterate, so I couldn't read it."

Nicolai didn't pay attention to the Count sarcastic tone, he rather observed his angry face, and he asked: "Do you think it's me?"

"Who is it then."

An ironic laugh escaped Nicolai throat. He used his hand to conceal it because he couldn't stop by himself. He knew that Francis was asking about his opinion, but played it as if he was accusing him to please the Chimera behind.

He thought a little, then he said: "This village is in the Crocotta hunting territory. Probably the barrier protected it, but they obviously sensed something a wrong and are testing the water."

The count suspected that Nicolai knew more than he stated, and he confirmed that his butler is ignorant of the world outside.

He watched Nicolai returning to his seat and stayed silent for a few moments before he asked: "So this village originally belongs to the Crocotta clan?"

Nicolai was more immersed in adjusting the tone of keys of the piano, he wanted to play another song. However, when his eyes met the count, he felt the arrows of accusation directed at him. And despite that he didn't feel the need to explain himself, he declared anyway: "Believe me, your lordship, Whether you are planning to kill me now or you have regretted not killing me earlier, the outcome will be the same. The Crocotta clan will never give up this village and I swear to you, I have no hand in this matter though I may be predicted this outcome."


	11. Chapter Eleven: A shadow from the past

Uriah, practicing his freedom after he has been confined to a bed in a small room for what it seemed to him an eternity. He took a deep breath capturing all the lingering smells that were carried with the cold air around him. It made him feel fresh, alive and full of anticipation. He shook his head, then looked at the direction of the most tempting smell.

“It’s better if we have a talk in a warm place.” He lifted his finger pointing at the source. His words held a particular suggestion. His eyes glimmered under the dark sky. As his lips made such a twisted curve, his claws and fangs were fighting to be liberated from the excitement.

It didn’t take him and his companion long to reach their destination. And there he barely could control his excessive salivation.

Uriah, even if it wasn’t long since he savored the flavor of fresh meat, he didn’t enjoy the pleasure of hunting for a very long time. He was a renowned hunter and this place was just filled with delicious preys that were tickling this instinct.

A fat woman with a pig-like nose opened the door for them when her eyes fall at Uriah a trembling wave of fear ran through her body while her skin lost it pinkish coloration. However, she fought to regain some of her composure and when she sighted the big men behind him. Her tensed limbs relaxed as she tried to talk in a calmer tone:

“Pardon me, Sir… But this is the entrance to the kitchen, the entrance to the tavern is in the other direction.”

Yet Uriah didn’t care, he was going to step inside anyway. He only got stopped by a big hand crashing his shoulder from behind, forcing him to change the direction of his steps. He turned his head towards him to see a frowned eyebrows and strain all over his forehead telling him in a language only understood by those who are used to feast on meat: “If you make a scene, this little conversation will not start.”

Madam Linda watched the two shadows walking away from the kitchen door as she froze in her place until one of her coworkers asked her what was wrong. She answered working to get her sense back and slowly closing the door: “It was Mr. Isidore and… and…”

“And who?”

Madam Linda paused for a moment, she was unable to answer at the wave of fear recirculated her way into her body again.

“And who?” Her co-worker insisted…

Madam Linda finally closed the door before she answered… her voice mirrored her inner state: “I don’t know, a new face... Ah, I think he was Dr. Rokah’s patient…”

“He had this terrifying air about him...” She murmured, her last sentence in a barely audible voice.

The table where the two unexpected peers sat face to face like allies, was full of white meat, beer, and water. Uriah said finally shoveling another bite into his mouth: “Forgive my earlier conduct, I couldn’t help myself, my instinct was hard to surpass because of the hunger. I assure you that won’t happen again.”

The expression on Isidore’s face didn’t change, he was observing this damn wolf in front of him in disdain, blabbing and eating at the same time. Wondering about what he was going to do with him.

If he killed him and says that he was the predator who was killing the woodcutter, his whole plan and hard work will fall apart, and certainly, that man will come after his head.

“Well, bird meat isn’t that satisfying, but it will do the trick, I don’t like white meat. It is tasteless.”

What this damn wolf after, talking rubbish…. Isidore features changing slowly to annoyingness, He took a pull of beer to extend his running patience.

Uriah asked him between bites: “Why don’t you eat?”

After gulping down the whole glass Isidore finally talked: “This farm village is within the Crocotta territory, How did you end up in here?”

Uriah stopped chewing the food in his mouth and swallowed it right away, he rolled his eyes, then declared: “Crocotta territory?”

In his memories, flashed a picture of a warrior with a patch of white hair in his eyebrow and eyelashes. A frontal attack and everything became black until he opened his eyes in that tiny room. He then said: "I don’t know, I was unconscious all this time."

Isidore eyed him and confirmed that he wasn’t lying:” Then you didn’t know how you ended up with that mongrel.”

“Mongrel? You always keep calling him mongrel. What is this? A new nomenclature?”

“The villagers here think of themselves as mongrels,” Isidore explained as he poured himself another glass, he was aiming to withstand the wolf reaction. And thus he concluded that he didn’t know anything. Hence, he asked the same question, but used a different rephrasing: ” What do you know about the doctor who saved your life.”

“Ah, you said it yourself before, that aberrant who is playing a doctor. I don’t know what he is.”

"But we should be honest, he is very knowledgeable about Physiology and deceases, I was observing him.”

"That's what boggled me and want to understand, he is the spitting image of someone I know, but at the same time he is not him.”

Isidore smashed the glass in his hand on the table and said eye widen. ” And it happens that this person you know was also a doctor.” He felt a little relieved after he met someone who shared his thought about the albino mongrel. It looked like he wasn’t going crazy or under some kind of illusion.

On the other hand, Uriah responded to this allusion: “I guess you know him too. I mean the real one.”

The surrounding air became heavy and hot… as if Uriah learned something he shouldn’t and sensed that Isidore attempted to avoid to give confirmation to his conclusion.

Uriah didn’t want to get on Isidore bad side. So he took a slug of the drink in front of him to buy some seconds in hope to easy the stagnated atmosphere.

"What do you want then, to kill him... You are not sure that he wasn’t the one who saved your life. I thought the Lycanthropes are loyal. Is this the definition of loyalty in the language of your kind?” Isidore was clearly provoked him,

It seemed to Uriah that Isidore wasn’t planning to get rid of the fake doctor as he had witnessed from the previous encounters. It was more like he intended to use him. But, that was exactly the opposite of Uriah intention. Because if that fake doctor isn’t dead the plague eating under his skin will soon get into his bones. Too bad, the plaque contained constraints, if not he had killed him already, maybe this will stop the progression of the plague.

Uriah took a deep breath, this conversation was a waste of time. However, given his weak state, he didn’t show this opinion to the man in front of him. He said: “Please, refrain from using this nomenclature in my presence, it really pains me to hear a fellow ethereal creature using this derogatory naming calling me a Lycanthrope.” He lowered his voice after he confirmed that no one was eavesdropping or looking at them, then he continued “It gives me the feeling of being inferior and shallow if you don’t wish to address me with my name please refer to me by the divine naming an Amarok.”

The sound of smashed glass and a tumbled chair on the floor alerted all the clients in the tavern, whom they curiously searched for the source of the disturbance. It was madam Linda, who dropped the glass in her hands when she glanced at the man sitting with Isidore.

Uriah waited for the waitress to clean up the remnant of the broken glass before he got up and declared in a low voice: “Well then my friend.” then left.

Isidore had a complex feeling about him, he thought about what he was going to do without making a big scene... Maybe he should wait and see.


	12. Chapter Twelve : A long wait for death

It has become a routine to Rokah, in the dawn before the sunrise. He will give a visit to some patients who are gravely ill and near their death. Despite he can't do anything about their condition, just spending a few minutes talking to them, sometimes giving them a painkiller if he collected enough ingredients to make one. This small tour always provided him a certain feeling of appreciating towards his own body.

An individual approaching death has this unusual aura that surrounded the air around him, majestic, fearful and mysterious. Was it, an elderly who had lived tens of years, wounded and drained by time or a youngster, who hasn't seen the worst or best a life can offer.

The smell that pumped into Rokah nose when he entered the room wasn't pleasant. Once he looked at the young girl who was lying in a bed three times her size, he tested the bad savor of prolonged painful agony. He predicted, right away her destiny. Maybe not at this moment, but not long enough, so he could visit her the next day.

His heart didn't bring him to tell her parent the truth, he rarely hid the truth about a patient's condition. It was that new bad habit he has picked up while staying in this place.

His next stop was an elder woman, probably the oldest living person in this village. He spent the time chatting about her past and memories, good and bad ones. It always astonished him, how can someone accumulate all these emotions, regrets, sorrows, then still being able to go on in life and speak of them lightly as if they were fragments of a marvelous fairy tale.

Finally, when this heavy stroll ended, his heart was completely delighted, a sensation of euphoria eluded all his numb spots. Those brief encounters and short visits have the effect of painkillers, it remarkably filled the emptiness that dwelt inside his hollow pitiful self. Even though for a moment, even though this satisfaction had a short expiration date. For him, this was plenty. It gave him the will to go on.

Recently, Madam Linda took the responsibility to cook for him. Every day, when the strolls end, he always returned to find out that his preferred table was reserved by her and the breakfast ready.

In his understanding of people's nature, Rokah believed that this was Madam Linda's method to fill up her own emptiness after she deemed herself alone. He believed that every person had some kind of rituals to fill up their emptiness. Just like him.

She placed a newly baked loaf of bread and a hot cup of fresh milk on the table, then she sat in front of him and asked: "How was it your tour?"

He smiled at her… well, she became very natural and familiar with him those last days, and he didn't show any disapproval of her friendly conduct. "As usual… nice and depressing."

Her lips lost the happy curve and turned sad. She learned not long ago the hidden meaning behind Rokah phrase. There was someone who doesn't have much time left. She asked him again with a different tone: "Who?"

"Little orange…"

"There is no hope."

Madam Linda got silent, Rokah knew that she was recalling her own loss and sympathizing with the parents who are going to take the arrow of the death this time. Whoever surprisingly, she changed the subject: "Don't feel bad about it… I know that you have done your best to save her."

Rokah's eyes widened at her declaration, and he stopped the spoon just before his lips. He wanted to check his face to see what kind of expressions he was making to the point that she needed to console him. She continued after noticing his response:

"When I remember how bad the condition your friend was when you first arrived and when I have seen him…"

The bit of the bread Rokah was chewing on, stopped in his throat. He nearly shocked when he heard Madam Linda spoke of that wolf, yet he controlled his reaction and continued to listen to her.

"He was very handsome, yet he was kind weird, there is something terrifying about him." Linda muses as she remembered his face and the drools that escaped his mouth "I think he didn't fully recover."

"Did you meet with him?" Rokah urged a response. His instructions to him were extra clear concerning any involvement with the villagers.

"Yes, he lost his way to the kitchen, so I was going to show him the entrance the tavern, he seemed hungry… Thank goodness but Mr. Isidore was with him."

Rokah didn't recall how fast he has finished the breakfast, how hurried he was to finish the small chat with Madam Linda. His peaceful morning moments and flair of satisfaction burned with rage.

He sprinted to his room, pushing the door like he was trying to break it. Peering left and right, the raging breath of his lungs never settled. It became hotter when he screened the whole room and didn't find a trace of him. No smell, no trails. It was just as though he was banished from this world leaving nothing.

He approached the bed, tearing all the sheets and kicking the damn covers away in wrath, until those waves of madness slipped from his trembling body, and all his power got consumed. He paused while lying down on the messed bed to regain the pieces of his exhausted mind.

He was shocked at himself and at this intense emotional reaction, he wasn't like that. Perhaps, it was the first time he has felt like he was betrayed.

He murmured in an audible voice "what I had expected…". Biting his lips. "I was careless, it's easy to be careless when you take care of someone this long. ¨

He led his bandaged arm before his eyes and said soothing his anger: "what a foolish move, even if the Aractantrope won't kill him, without the remedy the plague will slow his regeneration ability and will weaken his muscles."

In the middle of his trembling carelessness and sinking anger, a very familiar fading scent blended with his breath. It got stronger and stronger with every second. He shut his eyes and covered his face with his hands. He could feel his burning heart like a hammer beating on solid metal. And he waited on to the moment when he could hear the heavy steps approaching the unlocked door.

The sound got closer and closer to where he sat till he sensed a huge shadow cast on his body, like an approaching death. He was just waiting for the moment when something was going to crush him…

His breath grew heavier and his waiting became longer. Then he opened his eyes seeking the gape between his fingers to see what was going on.


	13. Chapter Thirteen: A coping wicked desire

The men Rokah detested and hated the most was standing in front of him. Casting a shadow twice his body and revealing a face devoid of expression as the darkness hid his eyes. Paralyzed by the unforeseen circumstance, Rokah froze in his place as his mind went blank.

It roamed into the back of his memory the annihilation ash as it dropped from the dark sky. Yet, he thought, If his journey was going to end here, if he was going to die, He shall at least die with dignity.

At last, he mastered the final drops of strength that were left within his frozen body. He moved the palm of his hands away from his face. In an act of final bravery, he wanted to face the one who was going to end his short pitiful life without grief or regret.

No regret...

He attempted to play the cat and the mouse, game, yet he had lost it before his first turn. Because he was careless. He underestimated his enemy and got more trustful with a person whom he thought he was able to control. And he foolishly believed that an Aractantrope and a Lycanthrope will fight till death if they have crossed the path. He believed such natural enemies will not gang up together for a certain mutual benefice.

A huge mistake he had committed regarding himself as the holder of the upper hand and now he was paying for it.

Having nothing to lose, Rokah glared at the big man without uttering a word. He didn't want to tell him to make it quick. These demands always sounded equal to beg, and he despised begging. For him, it has been just comparable to admit your own weakness.

The Aractanthrope glared at him back, then he moved his head left and right observing the terrible state of the room. He returned his gaze to Rokah and gave a sly smirk before he said: "It seems that the bad news had reached you early …".

After, He lifted the chair from the floor to sit on it, then continued: "Do you know why he came to me? ... I wonder what you have done to him to make him gulp up his dignity and beg for help."

…

"He wants me to kill you."

…

"I wonder why he didn't kill you by himself?"

The words were blocked in Rokah throat as Mr. Isidore glares grow more fierce. When he finally spoke he sounded like he was vomiting: "Because he can't kill me."

"Can't kill you by himself?" The Aractantrope raised his eyebrows. He asked again… Rokah could tell that he didn't believe him. So he attempted to confirm his declarations: "He can't kill you? Why?"

"It is some kind of protection measure used by healer on some of their patients to avoid a situation like this…"

Isidore skin wrinkles got softer, and his eyes grow wider, he adjusted his posture by making his back more straight like someone missed in cogitation, thinking that this mongrel wasn't playing a doctor, he was actually the real deal. He clenched his grip on his arm several times questioning the real identity of this person, he demanded: "who are you?"

Rokah pondered a little, he felt the drops of sweat running across his face. He strove to wipe them with his Palm yet his forehead was dry as a dead tree on a hot summer before he said: "I don't know… all of my memories before coming here are somewhat scattered, disordered… I just have a fuzzy and a vague recollection of who I am and how I ended up here."

Isidore startled him when he stood up and drew near to him. The air he exhaled bumped Rokah face. His scent was a mix of sawdust and soil. His voice took a calmer tone when he asked: "Did you find a way to inside the house?"

"Yes," Rokah answered hastily, it was a half-lie.

From the start, Rokah wondered why this man didn't storm to the manor and annihilate everybody there. He wondered why this preferred to play the role of a woodcutter and blend with the villager while killing them in shadow.

When did he come to this village? What is his motive? And how he spotted him the moment he set a foot in here?

Does really the count and that Magus didn't discern his identity or his hideout?

How about Mr. Hendrickson? He seemed widely informed and unusually wary, could he be not aware of this person?

Whenever Rokah tried to understand what was truly going on, he always reached a dead end… and got more convinced that this man before him wasn't just a block of meat, as he first judged him.

Lady Savannah never warned him about the presence of such third party.

The man declared, interrupting Rokah line of thought, and When he left, Rokah fell on his knees. His legs couldn't support his weight any longer, He stretched on the floor, letting the cold soil drench his trembling and extinguish his terror.

He stayed like that enable to move to who knew how much time long, till, the idea to visit the little dying girl ¨Orange¨ hit his head.

For some strange reasons, he felt a powerful urge to see her in that big bed, see her grieving parents and drink on their sorrow as they watched her die slowly while they can't do anything for her pain.

Was it a weakness! Or maybe his hollow carving and savage addiction for watching others suffering, so he could sense the fullness in his already troubled heart. He couldn't risk seeing her the next time when he will place a flower made from paper into her coffin.

He wanted to satisfy these monstrous urges that he could comprehend neither he could fight.

During that moment when he was face to face with the death, her face down with the lineaments of pain flashed in front of his eyes like a path to salvation.

He knocked softly, and her mother opened the door. She wasn't surprised by his presence as if she was expecting his return. In contrary, her face was calm, serene, yet there was that teardrop stuck between her eyelids.

He would swear that she knew about her daughter's fate, yet… he didn't understand the source of her courage.

It made him question deep inside his heart ¨ does the people in this village are miserable, or I am the only miserable one here ¨.

He advanced toward the little girl, observing her breath pattern that became more irregular. He touched her tiny fingers, they were freezing, and he clearly could see the bluish coloration on her white skin. He decided to tell her mother the truth out loud to witness her reaction: "She doesn't have long…"

"I know."

He wondered, wasn't she said, being fearful…

"Thank you, doctor, for coming back."

\- …

While he was ready to go out, perplexed. And before his hands reached the door. He heard the mother murmuring behind her: ¨ She fought bravely and I just want her rest in peace ¨.

He walked his way back to the tiny, lonely room. And that words ringed horribly in his head: ¨ Rest in peace… Rest in peace ¨.

When he finished arranging the mess he had made. He took a long muse to the canvas that he got from Mr. Hendrickson, and he never perceived the eagerness to draw as he does right now.


	14. Chapter Fourteen : A slight change of heart

Was it a hunch of guilt or a slit of envy, this time, Rokah has chosen to not attend the young girl's funeral. He knew for sure by now and from the start that funerals were a mere formality to satisfy a selfish wish.

He wondered why in the hell did he start to attend them in the first place. Perhaps because for the sake of appearance... Information gathering...

The charcoal shattered in his palm… Peering at his left hand, it was tainted by black, his fingers were all covered with a fine layer of sable powder that came from the charcoal.

The whiteboard lost its pureness. The floor below was covered with black dust and the candle flame blinked endlessly. He fell back a few steps, trying to have a clear view of how he had sullied this pure white surface. At the same time, he was pandering to identify the instant where did the matter start to go wrong?

Maybe, He got too much emotionally involved… emotions were like a thick veil that clouds rational thoughts, and they were why he started to make a lot of mistakes, bad judgments… They were the reason why he had deviated from his original goals.

All the surface of the whiteboard transformed into a blend of different shades of gray. Disturbed and gloomy like his heart. He sensed a surge of relief as he looked at it. Proud of himself, he took while observing it and diving into that sea of grayness. This was exactly what he wanted to draw. An efficient blend of gray nuance. Like life, where the answers he searched for were always hidden in a complex maze made of entangled images of black and white.

He shivered in sweat, eyes wide and alert when he heard the knocking on the door before he expired in relive on the voice of Madam Linda calling him by his title: "Doctor!… doctor!… are you here?" Her voice was never distant as it was this time.

He put his tinted hand on the latch of the door… waiting, he could perceive that her anxiety and worries getting higher and higher… the knocking force became stronger and more intense… He gripped the door latch with all his force, hesitating before he decided to open it.

This was a time when he graved to be alone, to ask the necessary questions he needed, and to choose the right answers for himself.

She was trembling and shivering… and started to talk to him without letting herself to breathe: "Thank goodness you are alright, you didn't show your face in a few days... I thought, something happened to you…" She brought a pouch to Rokah vision field and continued: "when you didn't come to the funeral, I thought you were tired, but it's been days, and when you left that time you were in… I really got worried." She stopped talking when she noticed the stiff expressions on his face: "Rokah!… are you alright?"

And Rokah wondered, where did his counterfeit blinding smile go? He didn't know why he couldn't fake a smile like every time. He retreated to the bed to sit down after he invited her inside, then he said: "I am very tired." This answer was followed by a long period of silence.

A compassionate look at Linda's visage that he couldn't see because his eyes were towards the floor. He did not want to appear unsure or troubled, His attempted to cover the mood with a fake smile was a failure.

She sat beside him, then she opened the pouch in her lap. She took out a stuffed bread wrapped in a piece of fabric, afterward, she gave it to him and said in a motherly tone: "Sometimes we get very tired from life and its heavy demands, and we require a few days to be alone from everything. To take a pause in a distant place away from everyone, but don't ever deprive your body of the food when it's not necessary." She gave him a warm smile and alluded to him with her shin to eat.

He tried to return her smile back, yet he failed. And again, he proceeded to cover his failure. Therefore, he held the bread with his bandaged hand, fearing to pollute it with the remains of the charcoal on his left hand, and he pretended to eat it.

He gazed at her when she placed a bottle of water and a bottle of milk on the table. Then he watched her looking at the gray painting in doubt before she got out while wishing for him to get better, and that motherly face she made never left her visage.

When Rokah got certain of her departure, he stood up gazing at the incomplete painting. He put the bread on the table. And at that moment, the image of the cemetery struck his mind like a lightning in a serene blue sky…

He craved to draw a cemetery or maybe just one a headstone marble, in an all a black and white image. And also leaves, falling leaves. Perhaps flowers, white flowers that grow from the grave soil, the flowers are better and have more essence…

He held the remains of charcoal and thought, the flowers must be in full bloom. It will be better if he made them folded all over the headstone…. And the twilight sky needed to be gray...

Rokah proceeded without hesitation altering the whiteboard texture as he pleased, adding and removing the contrast whenever he felt was needed. Sometime retreated to view the full picture and study the homogeneity of the shades.

He was a little disturbed, but he had made his resolve. This was the only satisfying action he could think of to rectify his mistake and to conform to his path. The path that brought him to this village. The path that he must get to his end before his death.

No more pity, No more sympathy, He decided while adding strokes over and over.

***

A maid invited him to get in and showed him the familiar pathway to the desk of the weird and stern creature with reddish hair all over his body, the Magus of this manor.

In their first meeting, Rokah sensed the vibe of hatred, cruelty emitting from this Magus's gesture and the tone he spoke his words. The smell of contempt, the hiss of superiority, he projected and finally the pact of slavery he implemented. Rokah was sure that the man who directed the pact of slavery wasn't one of those whom they have more than one shape, he was just a mere mongrel like them. Of course, the worst of enemies, always came from inside.

Well, Rokah thought that he won't get surprised anymore by all those strange and powerful folks roaming in this remote village, but he wanted to know if Lady Savannah was aware of those people existence when she sent him here.

He recalled all of that reassuring talk regarding the simplicity of this last mission, those hollow words were just like throwing dust in the eyes. And the most important thing he wished to know the purpose of Lady Savannah by sending him to this village. Did she send him to his possible death or it was just a lack of proper information?

How much higher the price of freedom, Rokah asked himself as he halted near the Magus's desk.

For an instant, Rokah eyes fall on the Magus hairy face while he was reviewing some papers. Unable to determine his expression behind that thick layer of hair, Rokah thought maybe it was the same contract that he wasn't planning to sign no matter what.

Seaben placing the papers to the side, he gave the doctor a throughout scan before he opened his mouth to provoke him: "Have you changed your mind?"

Rokah fought to keep his composure while staring at his hairy face that concealed everything like a shield while he was planning his answer carefully. 


	15. Chapter Fifteen : A confused state of logic

There was something strange about the doctor when he stood facing the butler. The icy look in his ice, the indifference that painted his countenance even the tone of his voice when he said: "I came here to fulfill my duty as one of the residents in his lordship village." This time Rokah seemed as if he was another person.

The untamed part of him slowly began to reveal itself.

He added, governing the bit of clarity that left in him, faking a cool faced as if he was the master of his fate: "It is a very important matter that demands private talk with his lordship."

He waited for a response, he so badly needed a response. Because if he didn't get what he wanted, the switch in his brain will click off and all his hard work to obtain the freedom he always dreamed of will fly with wind escorted by his life.

Breath after breath, Rokah couldn't even tell if the butler was looking at him or not. Rokah observation of him was just limited to the motion of his four limbs when he adjusted his posture to a better comfortable and dominant position, showing his eagerness to take control of this conversation since he didn't appreciate Rokah tone: "Do you think that you have the right to meet his lordship after you have refused to be in his service? Do you think yourself better than anyone in this village? " 

An overall tingling invaded Rokah whole skin. He realized that this person didn't underestimate him this time. A consequence of his rush unrestrained mannerisms… and his never-ending lust to appear keen and tactful. This wasn't the right approach to request something.

However, Rokah has noticed a subtle change in the butler's voice he couldn't discern the concealed intention behind it. It made him wonder about those unspoken words, though it won't be long until he found out. He overrode his gut feeling and demanded again, but this time he tried to be sincere: "I really wish to meet his Lordship personally, it is a very important matter."

It was worthless to repeat the same thing twice, Rokah thought. After all, this man wasn't as easy as the other villagers. Besides, Rokah has said it without calculating the pros and cons, especially when he couldn't see or read his facial expressions. But it's not like he had a better plan. 

And to Rokah good or bad luck, the butler took a deep breath, then he stood up crossing his arms behind his back before he asked: "Why do you want to meet the count personally?"

"It is really an important matter that needed to be conveyed to him personally," Rokah responded quickly and confidently, maybe he couldn't read this man's expression, but that didn't mean that there weren't other methods to anticipate his reactions and predict his thoughts.

"I am the one who decides what's important and what's not, and what needs to be conveyed to his lordship and what didn't."

The anger was prominent in his statement and Rokah hesitated to talk. For a brief moment, he wondered if he should tell him or not. Since he won't gain anything by making this man angry while his plan won't change whether this man learned about this little detail or not, the outcome will be the same.

"I found out the real identity of the killer." Rokah stopped to fathom any observable reaction, and when he didn't detect anything he added, attempting to make his story believable: "It was my good luck that I have survived his attack." 

Rokah was startled as soon as he saw the butler stepping away from his desk and circled around him, a chill run through his body. For an instant, he thought that this man saw over his half fabricated story, thank goodness he took the tame and damaged his own body with bruises and wounds in anticipation.

That was the overall purpose, when Rokah came to the manor, he made sure that he looked in a sorry state, eyes were swollen, cuts all over his body and of course a torn cloth. Only for the sake of his story to be convincing and relatable, but he was really confused by the butler statement: "Why in the hell do you know the identity of the killer?"

Rokah narrowed his eyes, his heart was lost in confusion: "Is this man blind?" then he eluded trying to stay calm as much as he could: "Because he attacked me, that's why I want to meet his lordship." Rokah knew that there was no turning back, either he sticks to his story or everything will crumble on his head. 

The Magus returned to his place, he took the contract papers between his hands and asked a question was distant from the topic of this conversation: "Why didn't you want to sign the contract in the first place? It will save you the time and give you the chance to meet the count."

"You don't want to know the real identity of the killer?" Rokah Blurted out as he was suspicious of this detour of the subject, not certain where he was getting to. And also afraid that he had already seen through his scheming.

The butler didn't answer him directly, he took his time while organizing all different papers on his desk. When he finished, he stared at Rokah swollen face directly and said with an absolutely angry tone: "I am the only one who asks the questions here." after a short paused he followed "Why didn't you sign the contract?"

Rokah thought that there must be something wrong, he couldn't discern, something he didn't put into his account while he was weaving this plan. What it could be? He responded terrified while trying to avoid the hairy face by looking away: "I was going to sign the contract if it weren't for the condition 17, 18 and…?"

"Eh…? Who told you about this contract?"

His voice got higher with each word came from his mouth. Rokah ground his teeth, pressed his lips together not knowing what he was supposed to answer him. But he hadn't enough audacity to not say anything, so he murmured: "No one, I figured it myself."

The butler yelled with certainty: "Really, you better stop lying... Was it because you know that I am a grapheme lore dealer… right! And this contract isn't an ordinary contract. How did you find out? Who tells you?'

Rokah mind became blank like a surface covered by a recently falling snow, soft and cold, and it all showed on his face. Solely the word grapheme lore dealer dancing like a leaf in the windy night. He was searching the pictures of his scattered memory at a time… a place on where or when he heard this set of words and what it actually meant. Then a special instant pocked his mind, it was the instant he encountered Lady Savannah. Did this man know about Lady Savannah? Was it why he was using this tricky word to fool him into a confession?

The truth was he didn't sign that counteract because he knew he was a Magus or whatever kind of art he wielded. He just didn't sign it because of the different conditions that it holds, for any person who had a chunk of intelligence, and he learned well how to read Latin, he surely won't sign that contract which was written specifically for enslavement.

But Rokah won't deny such warning considering Lady Savannah was the one who told him that there was a Magus inhabiting this farm -as she liked to call it-, and he must never sign anything he presented to him.

As for how he figured this person was the Magus, she was talking about. It was a piece of information he will keep it to myself for the time being.

The butler repeated himself again, not shying to exhibit his rage: "How did you figure out that I am a dealer of grapheme lore?" His hair was standing like a cat furred by some trick as he yelled after he completely lost his calmness and all the time, Rokah was silent faking indifference. Then he finally declared: "I have no idea what you are implying?"

The man took a meaningful and long gaze to Rokah before he said: "It is Hendrickson?... You are working for him."

Rokah lips parted, and he raised his eyebrows at what it seemed to be a false deduction. He even forgot that he was afraid that his identity was exposed, especially when an intense jasmine scent tickled his nose. He turned behind to face the door expecting to see a familiar face.


	16. Chapter Sixteen: A case of true misfotune

Rokah slowly moved his head to the source of the jasmine scent. All the kind of thought stormed like a tornado in his head when his eyes fell on the person who blocked the entrance. His eyes widened in response to what was going inside his body. A lot of footsteps were lurking behind his back and Rokah saw the shadow of three or four maids standing outside.

Like a monument from an ancient civilization, high and mighty, a man leaned on the border of the entrance with his left shoulder crossing his arms in front of his chest. And his head was slightly inclined to the left. The look on his face was closer to the fatigue than to the irritation. He called the Magus by his name in a depressed voice: "Seaben… calm down, I could hear you from the other end of the house…"

When the Count noticed the Rokah halted at the edge of his visual field. He adjusted the position of his head to have a clear view of him. The weary features on his face changed to a mix of curiosity and wonder, then he returned his focus to the man who was yelling at Rokah a second ago and asked: "What is the problem?"

With the corner of his eyes, Rokah observed the butler. He saw him getting straight and elevating his left forearm to his waist, then bowing slightly. This courtesy posture confirmed his conception of this man. This was then the lord of this manor and the owner of this village. Rokah quickly concentrated his attention on where his lordship stood, hardly oppression this grin of solace. It seemed that fate started to smile at him.

Yet this trance of triumph didn't last long. Rokah gasped in shock when their stares intertwined and locked him in a fastened invisible cage. He was closely observing him with his deep dark crimson eyes. His tied lips and prominence yet not threatening gaze made Rokah heart flutter in distress, yet He couldn't avert his eyes or move his frozen limbs.

The Count slowly walked toward him while his arms still crossed, the look of curiosity on his visage intensified. And without getting closer, he stopped halfway listening to his butler explanation: "As I told you before my lord, this is one of Hendrickson puppets. I am sure of it."

The Count, briefly looked at his butler with puzzled eyes, then he looked at Rokah. It was a rapid head motion repeated two times. The Count expression has gotten lighter for some reasons, while commenting: "One of Nicolai puppets? Really? I have never seen him before. Are certain?"

"Yes, sir..." the butler confirmed without hesitation.

The Counted stared at Rokah more intensely and started to walk in his direction again. But this time Rokah was extra concerned about what they were talking about.

Puppets?

Hendrickson?

"What the hell are they talking about? There must be a kind of profound misunderstanding going on. There was nothing between me and Mr. Hendrickson…" Rokah wanted badly to voice his concern. He knew it, getting involved with that person was a very bad choice…

"I told you, sir, You are giving him a lot of freedom, and he was all this time working behind your back..."

The lord waved with his hand to shut him up, then he stared at Rokah. This time it was different. It felt like a repulsive force pushing Rokah consciousness out making his scalp virtually tearing from its roots. He felt that these crimson eyes were trying to drown him in a deep red sea while he couldn't swim because his limbs were drugged.

This state of mind lasted for seconds, but for Rokah, It felt as if it was an eternity. As soon as he returned to his senses, he found himself standing in the same place. The butler on his left, halting like a guard and the Lord sitting on the chair behind the desk. His left cheek in the palm of his left hand while he was playing with the inkwell with his right hand. He sighed for a few times while making different expressions and finally, he dropped the inkwell on papers and remained in his position rumination at the ink while it gradually ate the whiteness of the tinted papers.

He raised his head to see the face his butler then he spoke in a soft voice: "Maybe you are right! I have given him so much freedom, a freedom more than he deserves. But I can't give a judgment on him before I will listen to his part of the story."

He pressed his thumb on the black stained paper till it tips turned white from the obliteration of blood circulation while continuing: "You were right Seaben, I became a little bit careless because he was docile these few weeks and I kept a blind eye on what he could do. Thank you for keeping watch on him."

He stood up while giving Rokah an indifferent stare before walked toward the door and left the room. The maids that stood outside made a way for him in an elegant manner and each one gave him a slight bow when he passed her. Seaben naturally followed after him and didn't forget to drag Rokah with him.

Rokah struggled at the sudden push on his back, he screamed: "Don't I can walk by myself." However, the butler didn't listen to him. He only let him go because of the nod of the Count's head when he turned around and asked: "Where is he?"

"In the study room."

"Stay here, I want to confront him by myself." The Count ordered then he left.

The maids started whispering to each other: "Did you know what is going on?"

"Who is that man? Why he is all beaten up? What did happen to him?"

"Didn't you hear, he is the one who refused the master invitation."

"What he refused to work here, he must be a fool."

The butler shuts them up, merely by shifting his head toward them, then he ordered them harshly to go back to their work.

When the place became vacuous, he turned his attention to Rokah and before he said anything Rokah blurted: "I don't know what this is all about, I don't even understand what you are talking about."

Rokah didn't need to see this Butler face to perceive that he wasn't convinced by his pleading thus he returned a few steps to the back and repeated: 'There is some kind of misunderstanding… I have no idea what you are talking about."

Inside the butler office, Rokah found himself obeying his order like a trained dog when he commanded him to sit down while he sat behind the desk after he cleaned all the paper stained with ink and chunked them aside. He looked at Rokah carefully before he said: "Then after you have met his lordship personally would you honor your side of the agreement and tell me the identity of the killer?

Rokah clenched his jaws and frowned as he listened to this rubbish. He made his displeasure clear to the man speaking to him. Yet he didn't dare to voice it.

"And don't tell me he is some kind of polymorph, everybody knows this fact."

Rokah finally found someone he despised more than the Aractanthrope… At this instant, he wished to slaughter him or better to burn alive.


	17. Chapter Seventeen : A step to the truth

Madam Linda was holding a lantern and waiting in front of the kitchen door. She was gripping tightly on the wool scarf that she used to cover her shoulder with, as well as to shield her body from the icy wind. And when she grasped a dark silhouette approaching. She leaped in a hurry to catch it before it got near. Once she deciphered the identity of this silhouette, she shouted: "Mr. Isidoro… Mr. Isidore…"

The big man was carrying a bundle of wood on his back, and he was walking slowly as his foot shatters the snow that turned frigid from the cold. When he heard the woman cries he stopped and waited for her to catch her breath and voice her concern: "Did you see Doctor Rokah?"

His pupil narrowed, but he said in his usual stoic unmoved voice: "No."

Madam Linda's nose became redder and the wrinkles around her eyes multiplied. She placed her hand on her nose rubbing it… while losing herself in worrying feelings.

The big man noticed her distress, yet he started walking again after he told her it's better if she will inform him about the urgent issue inside a warm place.

***

The study room was empty, Francis cursed in his heart, for he needed to make another long trip to reach Nicolai quarters. For his convenience, he met Hendrickson halfway struggling to ascend the stairs because of his bad leg. He observed him for seconds, making a complex face of being pleased or being compassionate. The aspect of his visage was a complete mystery to decipher. After he felt satisfied, he called him as if he were a dear friend. Then he approached him.

Nicolai was surprised and he had his fair share of doubts. However, the entire of his doubts evaporated when Francis spoke: "You were right, the Crocottas have their hands inside. But, how I am going to believe you are not working with them?"

"The albino doctor is here?"

"Don't joke with me Nicolai. Not in these circumstances. There is no way that you didn't foresee this." The Count tone was grave, though he attenuated it when he appended: " You have already met with him more than one time. I can't attribute this to the coincidence as you previously told me."

"That diligent Chimera butler of yours, he is truly working his hardest to track every breath I took."

"Nicolai!…"

Mr. Hendrickson adjusted the position of his cane looking at the floor beneath him, then he said, his voice carried a bit of peculiarity: " Did you receive another warning from them?"

"No."

" Then for what reason he is here."

" He personally wants to tell me the real identity of the man who randomly is killing residents."

"But you already knew the identity of the killer."

"Exactly, what I don't know is the one spreading the rumor and causing a mass panic. It must be those Crocotta's people behind it?" Francis pondered, looking behind him checking if someone was present before he said: "You have a long history in working with them if you choose to be a mediator between me and them, I will not interfere between you and Seaben."

Nicolai eyes flashed, he raised his head towards the Count and said: " let's walk to the study room, I can't stand anymore."

In the study room, Be-an arrived before the two of them, she was arranging the room to fit her master -Hendrickson- preferred atmosphere. Well-ordered and slightly dark, afterward, she halted outside next to the door waiting in complete silence. However, see her will think that she was a misplaced statue. Nicolai smiled when he saw here and he warmly thanked her. Accompanying him was the Count Francis Leal Di Montez, his gaze always fixated on her face whenever he met her.

Nicolai settled his tired body on the piano seat, placing his cane next to him, then he stated: " About 30% of Innyana range belongs to the Crocotta, maybe more, this record is outdated, before your arrival there was a vicious fight over setting new territorial boundaries. Their concern about this village means the conflict had ended in their favor. Perhaps they are controlling about 33% to 35%. The important matter that you need to know is they are a matriarchal society and if one of the Crocotta here you should expect two or three nearby lurking in shadow, ready for backup."

"Like a Lycanthropes…" Francis interrupted.

"No, more united than Amarok, Amarok are a patriarchal community. Fights break often between them because of succession or misunderstandings, the decision always up to the stronger whether it was a good or bad judgment while the Crocotta matriarch chooses her successor and they have a decision-making system based on majority."

Finally, Francis's heart relaxed after he heard Nicolai talk about the Lycanths in complete honesty. Actually back then and before the peace treaty, he participated in battles against Lychants so he knew that what Hendrickson said about their impulsive nature and their love to solve all problems with duels was a fact. Yet it's not like they didn't have their good points. Anyways, there must be a big chance that Hendrikson information about the Crocotta contained a level of truth. He finally declared: " So there is no point in fighting them. It will be a lost battle from the start. What do you advise me?"

"Show your good intentions?"

"How? They already sent me a totally threatening letter."

"Did your heart their informer?"

Francis woke to the window, refusing to let Nicolai see his face, he was thinking that Nicolai was really tactful he was aiming to save that white thing. Perhaps Seaben was right about him working with the Crocotta, but what alternative choice he had. He looked at Hendrickson and stated: "Not yet, I tried to compel him, I completely failed."

"That's because your mental compelling only works on a living being."

***

Mr. Hendrickson placed the cup of tea after making sure that the sugar completely melted inside. It only cost him a few circles using the teaspoon. Next, he offered it to Rokah by placing the cup on the side of the table that was in front of him. While he adjusted himself in his armchair he forwarded: "There is inquiry won't leave my mind, and I really wish to get your answer on it?"

Since there wasn't any response, he leaned on the back of the chair, then he expressed: "I beg your pardon, but I will be frank this time…"

Mr. Hendrickson tried the indirect route before, to get some insights on goals and reasons that bring this man to this farm. However, it didn't work out. Even if he has his own theory and thoughts, he still needed specific information to confirm it or to make a holy different guess, thus he continued, yet this time, he was really frank: "Why did you come here?"

The doctor was holding to his silence, his eyes were fixated on the still rolling circles that reflect on the surface of the teacup, deep in his own world, while Mr. Hendrickson explained: "It puzzled me, the fact that a doctor chooses a remote place like this village to make a name for himself?

"Sorry, I didn't understand what you mean?"

Rokah finally said, giving his famous, intoxicating fake smile that he learned as a way to smooth the outside world. But he still resembled a person in a trance. While Nicolai sighed from disappointment, it appears to him that the doctor still wanted to play this game with him. He straightened his back, loosened his shoulders and bring the fingertips of each hand to touch the other in front of his face and declared: "who sends you here?"

Nicolai felt some remorse while he said that, he didn't want to sully the relationship he thought that he already had established with this individual, despite his truly wish to learn more about his background. But not in this interrogative none friendly method. Well, it isn't like that furry Chimera gave him a choice…

"No one, I came here on my own accord."

Nicolai didn't sense a lie in what the doctor said. Though, he perceived that this wasn't the whole truth. Hence, he pushed for more: "For what reason, then?"

"I believed by coming here, I could get some answers."

He was closely observing those heterochromatic eyes for any reactions he could decipher, to detect even the tiniest lie, yet there was nothing like that. The person in front of him was aware somehow that he couldn't get away with lies, thus he reserved to talk only half-truths.

"Answers! About what?" Nicolai repeated.

"About myself."

What a bizarre creature this one sitting in front of him? That's what Mr. Hendrickson thought as he heard his answer. It made him remember the first time he met him. The awkward conversation, the strange request.

He also remembered when this person told him that he was full of doubts about his own existence, and he needed a constant confirmation to extinguish these feelings. Wasn't all of this humanistic approach was what made him interesting in the first place?

Then he felt the urge to ask more: "Like what?"

The doctor hesitated or rather downhearted, he wasn't willing to express his view or it was hard for him to say it out loud. He took the cap between his hands and started to move the teaspoon inside. The circles that the motion had created served as an invisible shelter to him, then he answered: "Like… Like, I am convinced now… that I am some kind of mongrel, or so…"

Nicolai returned to his first posture, resting his body on the back of his chair while putting his palm under his chin to support his head. He played with the handle of his cane for a few seconds in wonder, before he groaned and asked in his mind.

Mongrel? Such an odd concept he has, is that women committing another taboo?

He looked at the albino and decided to continue his interrogation: "Doctor… after you have spent time here and interacted with the residents. Didn't you notice something… going on, something rather fishy? "

The doctor gave him an interesting look with wide eyes, that indicated a sudden reflection, but he didn't answer, hence Nicolai pressed more to reassure him: "Something about their deformities, malformations…. You must have noticed it, you are a doctor after all?"

"Inbreeding."

"True, it's the consequence of inbreeding. Didn't you ever wonder about the cause behind it?"


	18. Chapter Eighteen : A crossed ulterior motives

Mr. Hendrickson took the cane that was prepped by the right side of the armchair. Then tried to support his weight on it to stand up. His right leg seemed stuck in bending position. It acquired him a huge effort to move it.

After a few steps, his movements became facile and the first blockage in his articulations disappeared. He sought the entrance of the hall and before he departed, he looked at the direction of the doctor and said while giving him an apologetic smile "Excuse me, doctor… I don't want you to take this little conversation between the two of us to your heart, I witched for us to have another talk, under a different circumstance.

He stood there for few moments attempting to observe the impact his elaborated apologize had with the doctor. He got relieved when he didn't see the disdain or hate on his face. But, For some reason, Nicolai, had the impression that this person didn't really appreciate his own life as much as he wanted to show off in their first meeting or this was the impression he got from him.

When the doctor looked at his direction, he quickly shifted his head away, he didn't want to get got staring. This was totally not a gentlemen's manner.

The first unpleasant face, he encountered in the hallway, was that of the Magus butler, who was halted next to a shattered statue made from marble. Nicolai stopped near him and tried to pick one of the broken pieces. From inspecting this peace Nicolai confirmed that this statue was a gift to his person from a dear friend.

He was still kneeling on one leg when he raised his face slowly to take a clear look at the butler. His gaze was sharp and penetrating like a fast blow from a trained soldier. Yet, he oppressively blocked his anger, taking a deep breath when he heard the approaching steps.

He stood supporting his weight using his cane, then he directed his concern to the forthcoming echoes. And as he assumed, his maid Be-an had come back from the errand that he had assigned to her. She was waddling when she approached them, her face was covered by dirt, her clothes were torn and when she bowed to give him the small glass bottle she was holding, she lost her balance and fell down.

Nicolai stared at the hairy face, anger ignited from his deep dark eyes, vein-popping up from the back of his hand as he gripped his cane handle with extra force. Nicolai felt the man smirked as he turned and left. He shut his eyes calming the rage before he watched his maid sorry state, then asked her: "Why didn't you find yourself?"

The maid bowed slightly: "Master, the last time I fended myself, It only weighed on you."

"Be-an don't ever hold-back and let them miss treat you for my sake." He said while he took his handkerchief and proceeded to clean her face.

***  
"So, is this our plan now, what is in your thoughts about the outcome?" Francis asked after he finished reading an open letter that he was holding in his right hand, while the free one was on the desk supporting his weight. He was talking to Nicolai, who was sitting on the sofa, stretching his aching leg and deep in his reflections. He could hear the question of Francis as a faded away sound without deciphering its meaning. He didn't concentrate till he saw a flying paper descending into his lap, he raised his head to see the Count's unpleasing face repeating the same question: "Is this our plan now? For how much you think it will work?"  
"Yes, if you want to avoid a direct confrontation, but I have an unpleasant feeling about the whole matter." He replied as he folded the letter with a caring touch. He knew that Francis wanted more explanation, yet he decided to wait for his inquiries to be voiced before he will give out more of the pieces of information he held.

Information's were the only available weapon he had left, for the time being, especially the difficult bad state his maid Be-an was in.

He needed to use this card well and if the Count got what he needed from him easily, how he will bargain about his freedom later?

As for now, His first and most priorities was to make himself reliable as much as he can, so he won't face a sudden elimination. Of course, he also needed to find a way to protect Be-an and what's better than sending her out this village.

It will be a huge loss for him. As well as he will be defenseless against the direct attacks of the butler. Thus came into his mind an idea, better calling it a gamble to exploit the confused mental state of that albino.

"Explain more?" Francis said, cutting Nicolai trails of thought.

And that was the exact question Nicolai had needed from the Count to ask after all Francis didn't change from the time he remembered him. Friendly to the individual he respected, Compulsive when he is pressured and sometimes astonishingly calculating.

How he is going to answer now? Perhaps, he needed to make things look complicated a little to give his services more credit.

"There are two possibilities I perceived from the whole situation. The first one: why did the clan authority choose this time, in particular, to wage an attack to get back this farm. As I told you before, maybe the territorial conflict ended in their favor, but this just speculation by me and don't reflect the reality of what truly had happened, so we still need to be careful in communicating with them. Thus, it brings us to the second possibility, the handwriting of the person who wrote the threatening message sadly wasn't the same person I worked with before? The only explanation I could think of is maybe there is a shift in power and responsibilities within the Crocotta clan."

"And that's mean our hope for a peaceful negotiation has vaporized." Francis Paused then added: "I must start preparing for a fight... At least to secure an escape road. "   
Nicolai was observing the reaction of the count, depicting any change of his character. He was puzzled by his rapid pessimistic view as if he was imperative to solve this issue in a short period. And when someone became inpatient he became also careless.

Nicolai took his cane and struggled to stand as he said: "No, I think you still have a chance for peaceful negotiation since they have sent you the letter that's mean that they have sacrificed an opportunity for a surprise attack in favor of negotiation."   
"Mm, looking at the matter from this angle, you are right. If they didn't wish for a peaceful settlement they will never send that letter even it had a harsh tone. But How we are going to accomplish that, surly sending them a reply won't be sufficient?"

Nicolai felt the count eyes fixating on him, it was just for a few seconds, yet he completely understood the meaning of this foresight. And he himself wasn't willing to back down. He was sure that his answer to this question will determine the degree of his safety in the next few days. Thus, he replied without hesitation: "We should not make any move that will stimulate their threshold."

Francis immediately understood that Nicolai was to his butler Seaben. As if he was saying, you should monitor your that magus, so he won't make any trouble. An uncontrolled smile fled his lips before he eluded: "And?"

"Better than a reply, you shall send them an invitation."

"We send them an invitation through that albino."

"No, better, you send them an invitation and let Be-an delivery it. Firstly, it is more agreeable and respectful. Secondly, they are familiar with her hence she won't face any difficulty roaming their territory."

Francis was full of doubt, he didn't uphold Nicolai true agenda, by sending that combat maid of his away, he will be defenseless. But most importantly, he asked: "And what we are going to do with that albino since you didn't want me to make a move that threatened them."

"Nothing, we leave him..."

"What?"

"An informer fails when he gets himself exposed, you will gain more if you let him be. By doing so you will make your enemy relaxed by thinking that he had the upper hand against you."

Actually, Francis didn't get completely convinced by Nicolai last approach, generally, he was right, this was a good advantage. However, he knew him for so long to believe all his talk. He must have some ulterior motive by letting that strange being free. However, small chaos may help his goal.


	19. Chapter Nineteen : A life and death matter

Uriah walked and walked, but he never could escape this entangled web of immense trees and icicles. No matter was the direction he had chosen, it always brought him back to the same starting point. The entrance to the village.

He tried to exit this place for days, unfortunately, all his efforts were in vain.

He fell on his arms and knees, observing the far entrance of the village, where there were Pillars of a gray and white smoke ascending to the dark cloudy sky. His weakened breath took the same fading color each time he exhaled.

He wasn't completely healed, the remnants of plague and the coldness that invaded his skin and devoured his flesh didn't just hinder the process of the regeneration of his wounds, it also played with the accuracy of his sense of smell rendering it numbed and vincible.

Slowly his full body sank on the icy glass, he turned to rest on his back, directing his face to the distant sky, his sight was blocked by the massive branches of trees around him making him feel locked in a small cage. So he closed his eyes to conceal the golden glow that was emitting from them. This position made him resemble a dead body being buried under the snow. However, his mind was far from being dead.

He was trying to remember the escalating events that caused him to become unconscious and rendered him to this pitiful state of hopelessness. He wanted to know when it all started to go downhill. How he ended up here in this closed barrier.

In his mind, he pictured a dark shadow, grinning like a Cheshire cat with three glowing pairs of eyes. His compact white teeth were giggling each time a soft but cynical laugh come through them. Then all the eyes blinked for few times before the whole image transformed into a pair of odd-colored eyes, one was a light shade of blue and the other was a pale tone of gray bathed in utter darkness. Followed by a distant voice like resonance asking him:

¨Do you want to live?¨

Everything floated into darkness again, before a pale yellow light emerged in a blink of an eye like a falling star. A dark face, he couldn't clearly make his details aside from pale yellow eyes and a lock of white hair in eyebrows and eyelashes. A sensation of choking then an intense chest pain before he lost his consciousness.

He shacked his head a few times attempting to throw this horrible piece of memory. Yet this image would never leave him, forever remaining in the bottom of his unconscious mind. And always floating to the surface whenever his insecurities and fears got the better of him.

His six sense told him that this is not a safe place for injured individuals like himself to stay in. He already had smelled it. Earlier, when he has woken up. The fragrance of a cold war that was hovering above this village.

From the villagers whom they trigger his appetite and stimulate his hunger to The abnormal albino and the Aractanthrope. And more importantly, whomever who is ruling the village inside the main house. To sum it up, the moment he regained his conscience felt uneasy. But he didn't believe his guts till the day he has the chance to go outside that tiny room.

Moreover, it was when he visited the cemetery, behind the main house, as he was walking between the graves. The aurora of the rotten souls that emerge from the pores of the frozen soil stimulated his fight or flight reflex. And there he started to get a hold of the big picture of what really was going on inside this barrier.

Thus came the conclusion to not waste another day here. But how he was going to get out of this place.

Uriah rose to his feet, prepared. It was the sound of footsteps crunching the virgin snow that alarmed him. Approaching steadily. He pondered about the reason that brings one of the villagers near the edge of this village, weren't they afraid for their lives? Even the woodcutters, -after close observation- never dared to stray away into this distance.

He sought to conceal his presence by jumping into one of the high branches, he waited for the unexpected person to approach.

He watched with hankering bumping heart, as his eyes narrowed and flared under the fuzzy moonlight. Then he leaped behind his prey. Overlooking all his prior settlements and plans to seek knowledge about the reason that brings this person here near the bars of this barrier. It was hunger and cold that controlled his actions, whereas, complying to the hypnosis of his other instincts that urged him to prey on unguarded target.

He quickly withdrew, when his attack got blocked by unforeseen tricky motion that let his prey fled the certain death while sacrificing its forearm.

Uriah didn't retreat, throwing the severed arm away, he leaped for another attack. Perhaps this was his last chance to get a nutritional meal without getting into the village and facing that Aractanthrope. Yet his impatience was rewarded by an unforeseen stab into his abdomen. Red blood oozed from the new wound, he pressed it attempting to decrease the bleed and when he left his eyes that person was running towards him. A sharp blade cutting the air to reach him, it was a miracle that he avoided it. The attacks never ceased. One after one. Uriah lost his balance and before he fell, he jumped away as far as he could.

Resting on one knee, one of his hands pressing the abdomen wound, he stole a glance to this merciless warrior. It was a young woman that wore a black and white dress. A maid from the manor, the same maid that brought the message to the Doctor in the tavern.

Uriah was flustered, why he didn't recognize her by the smell? Could it be that the cold numbed his olfactory sense to the extent of not smelling a familiar person few cubits away from him? He trembled at the fear of losing his olfactory sense as the image of the Aractanthrope fleshed between his eyes. If his ability of regenerated surpassed by the plague he will lose more than his olfactory sense.

Uriah decided to retreat, he took a hasty glance to the forearm near his position. Then he glanced at the trails in the snow to see an upcoming shadow accelerating in his direction. He tried to defend himself from the flying kick by crossing his arms on his face. Next, he threw the severed arm towards her. It seemed that his instinct was right, she became less hostile when she got her arm back.

He took the recess while she was retrieving something from the severed arm then he retreated.

Once he detected that he wasn't pursued. He stopped and put his left hand on his nose to warm it. The wound still open and a trail of blood drawn the path he walked. If that maid wanted his head, she surely didn't find difficulty in chasing him. Thank goodness that she had something more important than Uriah head.

When he got his nose warmer, he sighed in relief, his olfactory sense wasn't altered as he feared, but that won't last long if he didn't get a decent meal to enhance his body regeneration.

The image of the lady with a big shaped face appeared in his mind. He bit his lips to surpass the pain in his abdomen. There was no other choice, a prey was essential to his survival. A Chimera prey was the ideal prey to increase his regeneration process and to delay the effect of the plague.

The blood from his wound finally began to stop flowing but the stabbing injury was far from being healed. The cold, the hunger, his weakening body, perhaps, contacting the Kerit was a miscalculation though he never regretted it. The effect of the plague became a hundred times more powerful whenever the doctor was near him, it was abnormal and it felt like melting his bones. What was he, a healer or an aggravator?

“Don't let me see you again and don't make any mess while you are still in this village.”

The Kerit warning was clear, but right now, he has no other option, he must get himself some meat.

He cast away the burden of his caution then he walked steadily toward this cursed village, wanting to get things done as rapidly as he could. He was dead either way.


	20. Chapter Twenty : A walk between graves

Rokah opened his eyes. It was the moonlight that lit the road preceding him. Dismal and silent the path of the cemetery was at this early hour. He raised his head to the dark sky in anticipation, maybe the god will hear his prayer. The rounded moon was mystical and beautiful, shining as ever, not caring about the fire that burns inside his weak soul.  
  
These last days, he thought multiple times about giving up on killing that Aractanthrope. But his heart was indecisive. The hate and abhor filled his mind and made him rush for an early walk. The memory of that day was fresh as a bright moment in vivid history. Its effects still chattering his dreams.  
  
The way Mr. Hendrickson handled the issue as well as the crimson lord passive reaction. It was like they were performing a play in front of him.  
  
He conjured the scene that stuck in his memory another time:  
  
"I think that there is some misunderstanding here," Mr. Hendrickson said as he spoke to the Count and his butler who was standing behind him in the main hall. "It's just that happened that we had met by chance when I took a stroll in the village that day." He paused and glanced at Rokah, It was quick and incomplete glance but it held a deeper meaning Rokah still pondering on its signification.  
  
"He showed me some of his elaborated drawings, and they were to my liking thus I asked him to draw for me," Nicolai added, his lips were slightly curved to form what appeared to Rokah a buried smirk.  
  
The butler cried: "That's just a pretext." And Nicolai followed not caring about the interruption: "I invited him to give him the necessary materials, No more, No less, You can even send someone to confirm it."  
  
The Count asked without looking at his butler: "Seaben, Do you have any material evidence to prove the charges you are accusing Mr. Hendrickson?"  
  
The butler stayed silent and the Count added: " Then you better start writing your apology."  
  
"Sir, Don't you think it is strange that he knows the identity of the one who attacked the villagers?" Seaben insisted. Then the Count gave Mr. Hendrickson the same glance that Mr. Hendrickson gave to Rokah, quick and meaningful before he said: "Are you blind Seaben? Look at him. He barely escaped the death…" The Count covered his face with his palm nevertheless Rokah picked up annotation of the oppressed half-smirk, it was addressed to Mr. Hendrickson.  
  
No matter how much Rokah repeated this scene in his head; he arrived at the same conclusion. This play wasn't performed for him; this play was performed for the sake of that magus and Mr. Hendrickson quick glance was a trial to gauge out Rokah level of understanding concerning what was going on. As for the crimson lord behavior, it indicated the cooperation and amusement over Mr. Hendrickson whatever ploy. While that magus likely caught up these subtle signs for he was burning in the fire of his anger.  
  
What kind of chess play, occurring there and for what purpose? Maybe he should give up on killing the Aractanthrope for the time being.  
  
The weak shining light illuminated his path and guided him to the cemetery, to Chewa grave… He stood there… veiled by darkness.  
  
"I am sorry, I can't fulfill my promise to your mother… ¨ His voice was barely audible when he spoke.  
  
He thought that he was arrogant; he really believed for an instant the lies he told himself that he could be a savior, a herald to this young woman and her mother, perhaps to all the people that lived here.  
  
In the end, there is no salvation for those who are not favored by the world, and fate always prefers those who advance while the dead shall perish in the forgetfulness.  
  
As he walked between the graves, he glimpsed a blooming flower. It was an enchanting view of his ruptured heart.  
  
A pulling force made him stop and gaze at the enchanting blooming flower that emerged from between the gravestones. Making its way to the surface in arrogant pride, mocking all, his attempt to feel alive.  
  
It was an alert; the end of the winter is approaching… and the black stars will be here.  
  
His heart ash when he thought about Madam Linda, he had immense respect for her, for her power to withstand the harsh beats of life. How resilient she was when it came to the lost and death…  
  
Not just madam Linda, all the people that he met in this village have this invisible power that made them survive no matter what their conditions, no matter what they face…  
  
Soon, this village will become a battlefield; there will be a slim chance for survival. Perhaps the people whom he met here will have a horrible death. Perhaps they will survive by a miracle, yet he won't be here to witness it.  
  
Death didn't frighten him since no one can escape it. What frightened him was the suffering, the pain, the distress someone could experience before he actually dies.  
  
When he first arrived here, he truly hated himself, his weakness, his body, everything about his life. But now, he started to like his existence at least for a bit.  
  
Some of the wounds inside him still wide open, yet the bleeding started to run dry.  
  
He wondered from where a person had the courage to live. From where such a miserable life came from?  
  
"Life gives us choices. ¨ That was what he said before… But the truth is, life is what you choose it to be…  
  
Right?  
  
He clenched his fist and walked away under the dancing moonlight. On his way to the tavern where he pictured the silhouette of Madam Linda as she was waiting for him with the warm food.  
  
He saw Mr. Hendrickson's maid. Walking as if she was in a fight. He stopped at the sight of her bad condition. Her perfectly measured black and white dress was torn apart as she limped toward the direction of the entrance of the main house. His eyes followed her until she disappeared from his line of sight.  
  
He remembered that he didn't see her by Mr. Hendrickson side this time. He must be that he sent her for an important issue. Maybe to deliver a message to someone. Had he not used her to deliver his message to him before?  
  
If he was right, who could it be?  
  
He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, then he lifted his shoulder in indifference, these matters do not concern him anymore.  
  
***  
  
At the tavern, it was as he expected. Madam Linda was wearing her scarf and waiting for him impatiently.  
  
His lips faintly curved against his will before he announced his presence.  
  
Madam Linda ran to him, her nose and cheeks were red from the cold and worries. She asked while urging him to enter: "Where were you?"  
  
Yet this moment of family warmness hasn't lasted for long when he deciphered the identity of the man that was standing behind her.  
  
Rokah gulped the warm milk as he observed the big man who was looking at the paper. When their eyes met, he spoke first, taking the initiative: "This is what you want, a detailed map of the main house."  
  
The big man remained silent, frowning at the speaker attempting to intimidate him. Once he understood that his action was useless, he said: "It is incomplete… how about the number of workers, the weapon storage and some details about the abilities of the magus?"  
  
The doctor responded with a firm tone: "Of course, but I can't be confident enough, it's only just observations and a few estimations concerning the workers…". He rested his right cheek on his hand and continued: "I will give you the complete details after you agree to my condition."  
  
Rokah was confident, he concluded after what had happened with the Lycanthrope that this man and for some unknown reason, he won't hurt him. The earlier contact between them was merely to intimidate him. He began questioning and deeply analyzing this odd behavior; he had witnessed and aimed to link it to the other bizarre reflections he had already made about this peculiar individual.  
  
Working as a woodcutter, trying difficultly to preserve his image around the villagers, making an enormous effort to get a map for the main house… Weren't they playing the same role?  
  
Adding the fact that this Aractanthrope tolerated him when he should have already killed him.  
  
There were two possibilities Rokah could think of to explain his remarks. The first one: there was a third party that got itself involved in the fight over this village. The second one: Lady Savannah didn't tell him the whole truth about what was actually occurring here.  
  
"I am fed up with your conditions, I was way lenient on you, do you have a death wish?" Isidore was tone clearly angry, he seemed to the viewers that he was going to turn the table down, but the look on the doctor face reminded him of someone he knew in the past? And that someone always had this gaze when he was sure that he was getting what he wanted. And certainly, Isidore won't give him what he wanted  
  
"Whatever you are going to do, I want to help you." The doctor declared.  
  
Isidore mastered his growing shock, this way of talking, those mannerisms, he didn't believe his eyes and his ears. A burst of deep loud hearty laughter emerged from his large chest.  
  
Madam Linda returned to their table to find what has happened to Mr. Isidore, the man who hardly showed any emotion. What marvel caused him to laugh?  
  
When she approached, she got a hand signal to bring him another beer.  
  
She obeyed his order with a big smile on her face; it never crossed her mind that what truly was happening between the two of them wasn't really a good and a friendly thing.  
  
Isidore asked in a sarcastic tone that he couldn't conceal: "And what can you do?"


	21. Chapter Twenty-one: A daunting visitors

When Rokah didn't get an answer, it jumped to his mind that Mr. Hendrickson wasn't in contact with the Aractanthrope.   
  
If those two aren't working together, then who is working with whom? Who is the true controlling figure of the village?   
  
Rokah suspicions grew more intrusive. Even though his position as informer got possibly exposed and the likelihood of him being tailed by watchmen was certain, he still wants to involve himself. Furthermore, it won't be hard for him to mislead most of those who worked at the manor. The  image of  Mr.  Hendrickson 's  maid flared in his  mind , maybe this one will be a little difficult then  he remembered the  time when she  dropped the  cups and her  sorry state  when he saw her earlier,  he reassured himself that it won't  be a  problem .   
  
He didn't help but to be curious about what was going on inside the refined walls of the manor.   
  
When he was there,  he sensed a  strange atmosphere, subtle, hard to  describe and very different from the other times  when he had  crossed the  big gate of the main house. It was like there was some kind of preparation for an important upcoming event or a ceremony for welcoming supreme guests.   
  
He also noticed in his  visit to the  cemetery , the  absence of the two luxurious graves that stood out among all the  others , the  strange ones that  he saw their headstones were engraved with a  script in two  different languages; Latin and Aramaic. The ground around them projected the picture of recent exhumation in his thoughts.   
  
Though for what reason? What possibly the filthy act of digging out a corpse from its grave will benefit someone? Or it was a part of the upcoming ceremony.   
  
His chain of thoughts got interrupted by the Aractantrope seizing him by his collar and demanding: ¨ You better tell me all that youknow… ¨   
  
When Isidore heard the steps of Linda coming back, he loosened his grip and returned to his seat than he said between his teeth: "I will kill you for real if you won't tell all that youknow."   
  
Linda had placed a large mug of beer on the table before she asked the two of them: "Do you need anything else?"   
  
Rokah answered her while he stood: "No, thank you. I am tired, I need to rest. " His face held to imply to the person sitting with him that carried the meaning of accompanying me. The Aractanthrope didn't object, he was deeply concerned about his image in front of the villagers. And  it just was confirmed  Rokah remarks of  this odd behavior, maybe  this was an  act of  preserving his  real identity,  Rokah interpreted  it and without a further delay,  he left .   
  
Pulling his  legs over the frozen snow,  Rokah was  lost in  thoughts ,  musing about his  next step and to what  percentage he was  going to  share the  information he had  collected with  this man .   
  
He may be  felt that  he was  trapped by  him for the  time being but there  was no  point in crying over the spilled milk,  it was  better for  him to  exploit the current situation as much as  he could, so  he will  survive till the melting of the  snow . After all, this was cursed place and each one needed only to look after himself.   
  
Deep down, he felt a little remorse about this decision, but he convinced himself that he would forget soon. Since weak ones were mere chess pieces in the big conflict between the giant forces and this is the way of the world.   
  
He bent over to lift a portion of the ice that was cut in a strange shape. Then he looked at the direction of the shattered fragments of the ice that trailed forward, taking the same road to the place where he resided.   
  
Who could it be? A watchman from the manor?   
  
He searched the source of the trail, from which direction it came. The air got trapped in his chest blocked up by the growing mass of his confusion. The trail didn't have an original direction; it was as if someone had jumped from the sky, then he walked down to the building where his room was located.   
  
This wasn't a normal person, and he clearly didn't care if he got tracked or no.   
  
Maybe the Lycanthrope, no, even  if he had  found enough  nutrition to lessen the  effect of the  plague he won't be  able to physically harm  him because of the sanative pledge.   
  
His  uncertainty about the  identity of the  person who  he is  going to  confront at the  end of this  road made him hesitate to  proceed , yet the  scent of the approaching  Aractanthrope behind  him didn't  give him another  choice but to carry on.   
  
He clenched his fists in determination and walked with steady steps. Cautiously using all his senses to capture some insignificant piece of information that can help him identify the unwanted guest. And to his growing fears, the wooden door of his room was open. From a few steps away, he inspected the scratch and tears that was centrifuged around the door's lock.   
  
The intruder wasn't friendly and definitively physically strong… he concluded.   
  
He inhaled all the air surrounded him in one inspiration, using his powerful sense of smell as his last winning card.   
  
The trembling in his muscles, increased when he couldn't identify any strong odor apart from the Aractanthrope who kept a constant distance between them.   
  
He approached the door, lifting his hand slowly toward its handle. Then pushing it carefully, attempting to have enough space to see whoever was inside his room.   
  
A black silhouette logged in to the far edge of his visual field and slowly began to have concrete details as it advanced near the center of his vision. A sudden force opened the door from the inside to leave him exposed to the unknown stranger.   
  
It  took him a few  seconds to  swallow the  fact in  front of his  eyes , as the  only thing that  flooded his  brain was to  give a  warning about the forthcoming danger: "My Lady, there is someone dangerous is following me, it won't take him long to get here." Rokah paused then added to clarify: "An Aractanthrope…"   
  
"How much I hate this nomenclature… How many times should I tell to not use it in front of me? "   
  
The first rays of the dawn sneaked across the transparent glass of the window and fell on Mr. Hendrickson closed eyes.   
He was sitting on the armed chair, facing the big window and holding the handle of his cane. His head slightly inclined to the back, making his chin a little higher. His entire figure reassembled a messiah prepared to receive a revelation.   
  
Near him, on the floor was a collapsed body in torn clothes, every visible part was covered with slash wounds yet there was no trace for apparent bleeding. The face wasn't spared, he seemed bitten up by multiple smashes against a hard surface. The eyes were half-open, it gave Be-an the form of a lifeless doll. Her severed arm was tossed up beside the body.   
Nicolai opened his eyes, responding to the rays of light that fell on them. For an instant, it seemed that he has a double iris. A central normal one and the other were small compared to the first and were situated near the external angle of each eye.   
He murmured into himself in an audible, but unrecognizable voice: " Why did you come back, Be-an? The fate I wanted to save you from, has manifested. It looked like that I couldn't see a way of escaping it this time as well. "   
  
Before he got up and walked through the door. He pulled down the curtains of the window, not giving a chance to the rays to trouble the darkness inside his living quarters.   
He sought the count headquarters aiming to notify him about the near arrival of his important guest.   
His walk in the dark corridor brought back his nostalgic far away prosperous days. Despite there were a few noticeable changes in the style of decoration. And regardless of the fact that he wasn't going to get his control back. He just felt relieved at the thought of his Excellency the Count Francis Leal Di Montez negotiating for a peaceful retreat and leaving everything behind.   
Then suddenly, he stopped reevaluating the whole situation. This course of events was going a little fast and was too good to be true. Comparing the effort Francis has made to acquire this farm and the readiness; he has shown to give up on it, those two contradicting things didn't make a sense of his logic. In the light of Francis personality and line of work, this negotiation will be considered an immense loss for his person as a side dealer. Furthermore, he should never forget the chimera magus…   
  
If Francis was going to give up on the farm, then what kind of pact that was between the two of them?   
Well, a lot of things will be revealed after this meeting, and he decided to not anticipate the events before it occurs. For  now , He  only hoped for the  Crocotta arrival as soon as possible because, after  Be-an end, he was vulnerable to any attack.


	22. Chapter Twenty-two: A long history of clash

Outside, the dark clouds delicately covered the morning light and gave the scenery a melancholic feeling. At the  entrance of the  manor , two  rows of  maids and  servants halted in two parallel lines, in the middle between the two  rows ,  stood the  count wearing a gray Victorian formal custom with a burgundy long tweed coat, arms straight down,  hands forming fists. To his leftwasMr. Hendrickson in his black overcoat with a cape, leaning on his cane while the right side of the count was occupied by the tall and hairy butler struggling to fit into his costume.   
The count bent diagonally over Nicolai, whispering into his ear: "What should I expect? A bunch of monsters on four legs, as big as Sequoia tree, with long fangs and giant horns, puffing fire from its mouth and nostrils running toward us… " his sarcastic tone was mixed with some seriousness.   
"No," Nicolai said indifferently, then he followed:" I hope so. " He changed his mind and tried to play along with the Count, but his tone was terrible if considered as sarcastic.   
The count looked at Nicolai directly and answered: "This is not an optimistic response…"   
Nicolai asked him without looking at his face: "Have you ever seen a Polymorph in his other non-anthropoid form?" his question was a bit genuine.   
" Yes, It was the fifth war... But only Lycanthropes I make contact with… after that, I have never made direct contact with any kind of them. I always use mediators such as yourself. "   
  
"You are a veteran? I didn't know. "   
  
"Of course, my dear friend, there are a lot of things that you didn't know about me."   
  
After Francis answer that contained a double meaning, Nicolai switched to his indifferent mood and resumed the root talk: " Then you  know that this  nomenclature that got popularized before the fifth  war on  purpose was  used by the  old generations of pure bloodlines to  diminish the grandness of those breathtaking creatures."   
Francis turned his face to look ahead when he heard the sound of a grinding glass approaching, but he didn't stop the conversation: "This is my first time learning that those barbaric and animalistic creatures hold your interest? I thought It was just work and mutual benefits. "   
Nicolaiobserved the count with the corner of his eyes; hewanted to borrow the Count earlier wordsabout: "Therearea lot ofthings that you don't know about me." but he restrained himself before he answered: "Passionately."   
Nicolai didn't oversee the Count expression at his answer. However, he had a clear idea of what he should expect. While Seaben was halted in silence, listening to this little conversation and no one fathomed his mind.   
  
  
A  carriage 's  sound heard from the  distance ,  eyes inclined towards the nearing black dot that  starts to take shape as it got closer at a steady pace,  breaths held in  anticipation . Pulled by what it seamed two mechanical horses. Black and shining silver colors intertwined as the mechanical  horses approached yet the  sound of the metallic moving joint was faint compared to the  sound of hooves  hitting the cold soil and the iron wheels  breaking the ice , the  count asked  Hendrickson , his  voice revealed a  touch of  shock and surprise: " Aren't those two horses the ones that you get from the auction of the fallen house of Godbert?"   
  
Nicolai was also stunned, it seemed that his fear about the Corcotta representative was. The person was riding there surely wasn't the one who he was hoping for. But yet he answered the Count question without letting his disappointment being revealed: "I was asked to play a mediator and buy them no matter high the price, it was a friend request."   
  
A black and silver barouche carriage became recognizable Accompanied by two hooded persons leading it. Nicolai added while he attempted to see the two other persons sitting in the back: " And the carriage was a gift from me." Everyone was eagerly waiting to glance at the face of those important guests of the Count.   
  
The overwhelming presence that settled in everybody's heart when they glimpsed a pair of pale yellow radiant eyes centered by a vertical black pupil. The pupils changed size depending on the angle of light that fell on them. It was clearly a female wearing a long, fit and flare black dress in long cape sleeves.   
  
Her facial features were masked by the shadow of the black hood of an open mantle. And when she dismounted from the carriage. The wind exposed her black hair arranged in a braided side bun and toyed with her turfs. Her skin was dark, and her lips were thin and curved to a smile. When she walked toward the three standing gentlemen. She was  accompanied by the  person who was sitting next to her  who happened to  be a young lady  who had the  same facial features, the  same wavy black hair, and the  same eyes. However, she was younger, letting her long hair loose in the play of the cold wind. Under her black mantle, she wore an asymmetrical black skirt with high boots. Her pair of pale glittering yellow eyes jumped through each standing gentlemen analyzing them carefully before they landed on the last one.   
Mr. Hendrickson tried to bow in respect, although the leg injury prevented him to perform the gesture adequately mirroring the slight bowing of the two ladies.   
"It was so long since I heard from you." The older woman said, addressing her parole to Mr. Hendrickson. "I surely feared that you were dead." She continued without expecting any response from him. Yet Mr. Hendrickson hasn't stayed silent: "Well, my Lady, there were some unfortunate events more powerful than my desires to contact you and explain the matter that happened here."   
  
The displeasure on the count face was traceable, and his attempt to surpass his feeling was also noticeable. He wanted desperately to include his person in the conversation, hence he forwarded: "How about, we continue our conversation inside my ladies?"   
  
The older woman gave the two servant girls that came with her to let the workers of the manor handle, the carriage and the two mechanical horses, her pair of angry pale yellow eyes looked at the speaker. There seems some kind of reciprocal hatred at the first sight between the two of them. Or was it just the remains of an ancient long history of war and grudge?


	23. Chapter Twenty-three: A tour in the hall

  
Mr. Hendrickson stood near the entrance of the grand hall, watching the outline of the old lady as she inspected the paintings that were dangled on the walls. He observed the changes that her face made each time she shifted her head to look at another picture.   
He remained silent until she addressed him making a comment about the art style: "Has your taste in art changed?"   
  
Nicolai moved his black eyes to the wall and concentrated his attention on larger paintings. He noticed the same thing he had already noticed before when he had taken a tour inside the house after he was able to walk properly by himself.   
Back,  he noted that his interior-decoration that  he selected with much  consideration , nearly all of them, have been  replaced without  exception . Even his beloved chosen abstract paintings, they got replaced by landscapes and cities canvas.   
  
He returned his gaze to where the lady was standing to see her pair of yellow eyes intensely fixating on him. He sensed that she was forcing him to answer her inquiry.   
Nicolai took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. Wondering how he was going to respond to this irrelevant question that he found meaningless and just a passing gibberish without substance related to their current situation. He glimpsed again in her blazing eyes, to find the seriousness never left her solemn face. And at that moment he deciphered the deep meaning behind this seemingly innocent question. Hence, he answered without delay: "No, My taste in aesthetic, sill as you remember it."   
  
After he gave his answer. He saw her lip curves casually and her pupil widened. Then he heard her change the subject by directing the conversation to the young lady that was standing not far from him: "How about you? Kanari, What do you think? "   
  
Kanari was long immersed in her  observation , the  moment she stepped inside the  hall ,  she was  amazed by the  decoration that matched perfectly her taste, especially the ceramic collection. It hit all her art sensitive points. But of course, she acted as mature as she could surpass her childish urge to show her infatuation and faked a facade of indifference.   
  
Nicolai was curious to note her reaction; he hadn't seen her for long. She was an aloof child who was wary of a stranger. How much of that innate trait has stayed with her and how much of her character had developed to resemble her mother.   
  
On the other hand, the Count seemed offended with the topic of the conversation and whispered to Nicolai: ¨ They better stop, I am fading up with women questioning my taste in arts ¨. Then he disturbed the ongoing conversation: "My Ladies, I am convinced that you are exhausted from the lengthy trip, how about we escort you to the guest quarters to rest before dinner?"   
  
Kanari looked at her mother, whereas her mother looked at the Count and slightly bowed in respect as she gave her answer: "Your Excellency, thank you for being so considerate towered your guests. Please allow us to rest… "   
Nicolai watched the change on the Count visage in amusement. He speculated that the count was perplexed at the refined attitude used by those barbaric and animalistic creatures.   
  
  
  
The guest quarters on top had its share of renovation, Kanari didn't remember much of it since it was rare for her to come into this farm. However,  she recalled the murky atmosphere that  she didn't enjoy  much in the scarce occasions that  brought her to  visit this  farm , now  she thought that  she preferred these  bright colors rather than the  old ones .   
  
Kanari pulled the curtains and unlocked the window of her room. She gasped and felt a tingling all over her skin at the unusual scenery in her window opened up. She recognized the elegant brick-line that beautifully encircled narrowed spaces and the grim atmosphere that surrounded the whole back yard. She leaned resting all her upper body on the frame while letting her head in the outside air. She didn't believe her eyes. As a result, she closed them and opened them for a few times to be certain. Afterward, she inhaled the rotten cold air lingering in the outside atmosphere as ample as the cloud. She felt nauseous and sick, hence she retreated inside and rapidly fastened the window while rambling after confirming her suspicions: " For the god sake, why there is a cemetery in the backyard? whoever redesigned the house must have a weird fetish. "   
  
  
She put a  piece of perfumed fabric to  cover her  nose and mouth fighting the  rotten smell that poisoned her olfactory sense, then  she inhaled and exiled in  it several  times before  she took  it away and  threw it on the  bed as  she stretched leisurely  on it .   
  
  
She closed her pale yellow eyes, thinking about the three individuals whom they were waiting for their arrival. The black-haired one using the cane was Mr. NicolaiHendrickson, her mother long associate rather a friend. She feared that she didn't remember him clearly since he really changed, not in his physical appearance. Instead, it was something fundamental of his entire existence. Yet, the resentful sour taste that he left in her mouth when she first met him, didn't change.   
  
Call it instinct or the extrasensory ability, at that time, the young innocent girl decided for some unknown reasons that she didn't like this cryptic black ghost. And she recalled clearly her mother answer when she told her about what she had felt: ¨ people are different,  they came in all kinds of various  flavors ,  colors , and shapes and  sometimes we feel indifferent to their  existence ,  sometimes they unexpectedly complimented us like a  lost piece of  puzzle from ourselves, and  sometimes their  presence hit us  all in wrong places  thus we  hate them and maybe plot to  kill them . But there is a better method than wasting effort in hating and killing them and it is more practical and way, way more satisfying. Can you guess what is it?... It is to use them to your advantage. ¨   
  
  
How deep and obscure those words back then, and how her mother was right about what she said. And this became one of the main reasons that made her accompany her mother today on this diplomatic trip. Even though she wasn't convinced by the rational motives of these pointless negotiations - made by her  mother since her clan has the upper hand in the current situation.   
Pondering about the present situating, her mind jumped to the image of the crimson man and the monkey in the custom standing behind him. They must be one of the pure bloodlines and the grapheme lore user secretly motioned in the letter. The intense jasmine scents the lord transmitted smothered her chest. What a pity she liked the smell of the jasmine and its petals.   
  
What was his name again... a  Count ,  no ,  no this was a nobility title that reflected a certain social status like  Esere , Well,  she didn't  have much  time to  prepare for  this unexpected divert in  events . Now she needed to start familiarizing herself with every bit to be ready for the negotiation.   
  
As  she was busy sorting her  things ,  she remembered the other reason for her  coming to  this farm and  proceeded to  search in her  valise for the  notebook after  she found it,  she proceeded to  inspect its  pages .   
A pounding on her door startled her. She had closed the notebook before she responded telling whoever was behind the door to enter. When she saw her mother, she panicked and tried to hide the notebook under the pillow.


	24. Chapter Twenty-four: A transgression against laws

Following the trails of the doctor, The Aractanthrope never expected to confront a person who carried the eight-pointed star from the Isotoxal octagram constellation, the Crocotta clan famous crest.   
  
In his past, he easily could detect the stigma of their particular dangerous scents and the traces that they left purposely on their territories. He always preferred to avoid them. It wasn't  because he was  weak , but  because he learned through long, painful experience that even if  he could hold a  fight against one of  them ,  it didn't mean  he could do the same with two or more.   
  
As a result, avoiding them was the better choice, he would choose.   
  
But now, how he could avoid them when he couldn't even sense their presence? The sequels of his ancient injuries showed to be serious with each critical encounter.   
  
Yet, he felt relieved when his gut feeling was correct. The odd albino mongrel who somehow made him remember his old days in Mt Ninurta before the fall, this mongrel actually has a linkage with the Crocotta clan.   
  
The big man looked at the young warrior clothed in light black armor designed for quick movements rather than defense. He was approaching him, despite he was nearly half his size, he didn't show any sign of hesitation or fear.   
  
The unisex fighting uniform along with the flying goggles that have tinted  lenses which  he wore ,  made it hard for the  Aractanthrope to  distinguish if  he was a  male or female based on his body shape.   
  
The unidentified stranger ceased his advance and stood while his hands were hidden behind his back, defenseless in a display of the blind confidence of his own superiority.   
  
When the  two of them  got in a  comfortable distance, they  engaged in a short quest of  determination of each other  degree of  hostility and possible  weak points that could  play a vital element, if a sudden confrontation  would break-in.   
  
In this decisive few seconds, the unknown warrior took off the flying goggles and let them dangle from his neck. His pale yellow eyes were glittering with assuredness and dominance. But what  brought the  Aractanthrope to  figure out his  identity was the  strand of  white hair in his  right temple also the  white hair of the  eyebrow and the  white eyelashes of his  right eye that intervened with the  darkness of his  skin .   
  
The big man whispered in his head in confusion, this must be the Crocotta, known as the void ambassador. The  one who was  famous for turning about a tenth of the  Ea forest to a  vacuum and  left its gravitational borders swallow every living being  who happened to  get near its  edges . It was a notorious accident dated approximately ten years ago that made the regional council gather in less than a week.   
  
Isidore wondered, maybe  this was a  Crocotta territory , but how did  this reaper  saw through the  barrier and managed to quietly trace  pass it without  sending any soul to the other world…   
  
"A Crocotta." Isidor voiced in an audible voice, avoiding to use any nickname to address him.   
  
"This is the Cocrotta’s territory, who are you?"   
  
The voice was a bit unclear and sounded mechanical as well as fake, it gave Isidore the impression that this person wanted to mask his identity no matter what.   
  
The young warrior stepped forward, anchoring his center of gravity on his advanced right leg. His eyebrows raised upward revealing the coldness that was built in his pupils. And nevertheless his preparation, he didn’t lose his calmness while waiting for the smallest sign remarking a peaceful or a hostile interaction. Maybe the body language of the anonymous Aractanthrope suggested to his receptors that there was no pressing danger to wage a quick attack.   
  
The most important matter in any fight was the first few moments when an experienced fighter evaluates his opponent and decides what are the best opening moves. It seemed to Isidore that this reaper understood and applied this rule skillfully as he didn't exploit his death waves blindly in the air.   
  
The  deposition this young warrior chose to  hold ,  made him an  object of  admiration by  Isidore since the  rumors he had  heard about the  Crocotta ambassador of the  void was  degrading him to a mere slaughtering tool.   
  
He lifted his hands in the air, and before he could say anything he heard him declaring with the same mechanical voice, but less fake than the first time: "A Kerit? It's really a Kerit. What is a Kerit doing in our territory? "   
  
A female.   
  
Could it be this was an aftereffect of a recent shape-shifting effect?   
  
The Aractanthrope couldn't decide. But for sure, this  voice somehow stood midway between femininity and masculinity, however, its  weight more on the feminine side.   
  
After this statement, Isidore directly noticed the softness that overwhelmed the warrior stiffened experience as the uncertainty enveloped him thinking. He also felt the tension that was built within his limbs, slowly started to decline.   
  
The confidence that this Crocotta showed at the beginning bleached under the stream of the incertitude. But the eyes, that pale yellow color still holding the same stubbornness, demanding more explanation to be convinced: "Who are you? And how did you break into this protected domain? "   
  
Indeed, this voice was more feminine. So the Crocotta ambassador of the void is a female…   
  
Isidore hesitated to give up on her at first, yet in the end, he resolved to be more honest. Not only to make himself credible to her, but as well to prove to himself that he still can be well versed despite his grave disability. "Do not rush my Lady, the truth is simpler than what it looks."   
  
The Aractanthrope waited for a reaction, waited for an irrational rushed act, his wait was long. He then resumed without giving much thought to the rumors he had heard about those who were nicknamed after the death: "To be honest with you, I am just a victim who got lured to this place then get himself stuck here because of his own stupidity and misjudgment. If you wish to kill me right now, right here I can only blame it on my own incompetence. "   
  
He said, as he looked at her face, which its features didn't change much. Still holding the same expression that meant: You still didn't explain clearly what I wanted to know.   
  
Thus, he resumed:   
  
"How long it was? One year, two years, or maybe more...   
  
I got lured to the borders of this barrier by a fake map. I didn't discover that it was trapped until I suffered from a sneak attack and sustained heavy injuries.   
  
I wasn't in good shape  when I arrived at  this village , and  when I came to walk on my  legs again,  I tried hundreds ,  thousands of  times to  get away from  here without  success . Through the  time I came to understand that  this must be a selective one-way  barrier , and whoever  craft it must be a grapheme lore user,  thus I came to a final  understanding that the only way out is either to  get a  permission from the one who  crafted the  barrier or  I must kill him to  destroy it and be free.   
  
My plan was to break free that went into motion a few months ago, when I saw a strange person enter the tavern. Neither a Chimera nor a Polymorph. At  first ,  I thought he was  just wearing a  mask to  fulfill whatever  role he was  playing , but when  I approached him,  I got shocked and perceived that the  matter is more complicated than  I have  imagined it at  first . "   
  
The long explanation made the big man gasp for the air. And as he exhaled, he remarked that the warrior was retreating her right leg to take a less aggressive position. She bowed her head, observing the melting ice under her feet, then she sluggishly looked forward to the man in front of her. The gaze in her pale yellow eyes never lost its glow. And the  moment they reconnected, the  Kerit felt a sudden urge to say more, to  accuse her , to  blame her , maybe he could  succeed to shatter some of her  arrogance : "I do not know your reasons, but what you are doing is not just a sin, raising deads is a forbidden sin by all of our divine laws and for a various legit reason."   
  
His words were like a soft breeze, tackling her face or how he thought since she didn't show any serious reaction. She just pouted her lips and declared: "I see… if you have recognized him, it means that you have knownhim before... Right? "   
  
The big man shut up, his previous urges disappeared. And only halted in his place when he declared as his voice filled with the agony: "Yes, he is dead now."   
  
"No, I am not committing any forbidden sin, neither this person is dead." Savannah declared, shaking down the accusation after she confirmed that this Kerit knew Rokah, well the original one to be more accurate.   
  
"No way this one looked like a cheap rotten copy of the original?"   
  
"He is not the same person you had known?"   
  
"No."


	25. Chapter Twenty-five: A meeting and alliance

The new daylight brought a new movement to the village residents. Savannah and Mr. Isidore weren't standing near the busy crossroads frequently used by the villagers, but their position wasn't far from their curious eyes. Pretending to be on the friendly term was a need felt by the two of them since they won't cause unwelcome attention. It just will be perfect that the unexpected individuals that will catch a glimpse of the two of them will have the impression of an old resident showing a way for a newcomer.  
  
That will savor Savannah and her new acquaintance the pain of silencing them in an unpleasant horrible way, therefore she will avoid her secret presence from being bare to whomever that inhabit the main house.  
  
She walked a few steps passing the Kerit standing place by few cubiti and asked again while watching the distance: "How so? If he didn't look completely like him you haven't recognized him?"  
  
The kerit looked back at her and confirmed what he has said before: "I do not know what answer you want me to give you, but He is completely different from what I have remembered him. It was only the remnants of nostalgia."  
  
Savanah interlaced her fingers behind her back and walked a few more steps while jerking her head to the right then to the left in slow moves. Then she drew back returning the big man stares. She never imagined that she would meet another Metamorph inside this barrier, a Metamorph who actually recognized the true identity of her new puppet. And she was torn between believing this story and her curiosity about finding more about Rokah exact identity or questioning the facts and convictions behind what he had told her.  
  
"I hope you didn't harm him?¨ She inquired, "I want him in perfect condition."  
  
"I could have lied to you and say no, but I want to be true. There are a number of misunderstandings between us. And I can never look at him without feeling certain urges to penalize him even if I know that he is completely a different being. And if you were talking about the physical harm, you must have met him before coming after me…"  
  
Savannah fiercely hammered him with a glare: "Then you have taken your time enjoying torturing him in nonphysical ways?" She said while her sister words echoing in her mind that she should never expose him to an intense psychological overload or their work will be lost in vain.  
  
The Kerit blinked, her instant change of feeling indicated to him that that mongrel is someone very important to her, but he couldn't establish for whom this concern directed to, was it for this cheap fake copy that plays a doctor or the real one whom he had known.  
  
He expressed after a few moments of silence: I want to deny that, yet I do not which to have a fight with the Crocottas, it's not like it was unbearable. After all, I merely wished to get out of this suffocating place."  
  
Before he could finish his sentence, he got alarmed by her shifting her head in the direction of the tavern. This was a grave mistake a warrior could make, turning her attention away from a possible enemy. Did she not really consider him a threat?  
  
"Then let's make a deal. I will secure your exit from not just from this farm, but from all the Crocotta territory, in exchange, you will need to follow my instructions as long as you are here."  
  
Savannah proposed while sighting him with the corner of her eyes, and while the orientation of her head still fixated on the direction of the tavern, she didn't wait for him to answer as she sprinted at full speed toward the tavern.  
  
The big man observed as her outline disappeared into the blur of the distance in a few seconds. He narrowed his eyes, then spat in the air before he followed her trails. He could barely keep up with that crazy speed. And when he arrived, he only got a glimpse of the flying triangle choke she had performed near the entrance of the tavern.  
  
The opponent whom she was facing, was on the land unconscious in a blink of an eye. He took his time approaching the scene with cautiousness to find out what's going on.  
  
At these early hours, most of the villagers were preparing for the new day work routine, thus the place around wasn't crowded like the sundown hours.  
  
He watched her drag the unconscious body inside, using the small back door of the kitchen. He was yet to understand what was happening till he got closer to the location and spotted the trail of blood that formed a jagged path that emerged from the entrance of the tavern to reach the outside space.  
  
Isidore thought if his sense of smell was intact he will quickly figure out that the scent of this red splatters belonged to one of the several mongrels who work in the tavern.  
  
He looked back and forth between the entrance of the tavern and the door of the kitchen, attempting to decide which direction he will choose to follow. His curiosity and annoyance made him pursue the Crocotta's lady to uncover the owner of the poured blood.  
  
The kitchen still has some warm steam, since the food was above the cooking fire. He heard a small noise coming from one of the corners, so he looked to see Savannah fastening the body that she knocked unconscious a few minutes ago, She was groaning while doing it: "Aah, this bad dog. It wasn't a mere few hours since I arrived and here he is making trouble for me. Can't he just stay unconscious? Like forever?"  
  
He advanced to confirm the thought about the identity of the unconscious person, and when he got a clear view. He retreated in silence. However, the piercing gaze of Savannah's eyes stopped his soundless movements and felt as a spear passed through his uncertain heart.  
  
She stood after she had fixed the ropes and said: "We must clean the place before anybody come here and started a wave of panic in the whole farm."  
  
The chaos that built inside the tavern shown that it was a one-sided battle between two unequal parties. A battle between a predator and a prey, and there was no doubt about who was the winner.  
  
The big man walked around the dead bodies, recognizing each one of them until he stumbled to a severely misshapen one that he could only identify from a piercing of the mutilated pig-shaped nose.  
  
He turned to Savannah whom she was securing and locking the main entrance of the tavern after she finished with the kitchen door, then said to her: "My lady you can go, I am certain that you have more pressing matters to attend to, I can do the cleaning by myself…"  
  
This was the first time Savannah paid attention to his way of speaking, and at that moment she thought, certainly there was a serious lack of harmony between what this Metamorph want to look like and his perfect elaborate way of speaking. Kerits were known for their solitary preference which made them ignorant to the ways of polite speaking and other manners of conduct in a complex society, it seems that there is always an exception to any rule.  
  
She approached him from behind and asked: "Can I confirm that this is your answer to the deal I have proposed?"  
  
He faced her and said: "As long as you will secure my safety until I get out of your territory."  
  
"Wait, not that fast, it's not all, there is another condition."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"You should tell me everything you know about the real identity of Mr healer."  
  
He raised his hand and said while they were handshaking:"Deal sealed."


	26. Chapter Twenty-six: A guide to dinner etiquettes

The Count circled the vacant space around his office in weighing slow steps. His hands were behind his back. And his head made some time nodding movements and other times a shaking motion. It was like that for a few moments before he decided to sit down and revise the first draft of the term of the agreement between him and his guests with an open mind. However, he got interrupted once he finished the first paragraph.  
  
"My lord, are you really going to give up on this village?"  
  
The butler asked his master. The tone of his voice was vacated from the respect that he used to address him before.  
  
Straightaway, Francis understood the stealthy meaning disguised behind these elegant words. Resting his head in his palms, pretending to be ignorant, he attempted at changing the subject: "Did you dig up the second grave?"  
  
The count lifted his sight in the direction of his butler when he didn't hear his reply. And as their eyes connected, it was followed by an instant of silence that got broken by the magus repeating his first question, but this time he used a demanding and intimidating tone: "Are you going to give up on this village?"  
  
Francis stood up, the desk moved under the force of this full weight pushing it forward. He walked near the magus while he fixed his gaze on his hairy face. The aurora in his crimson eyes was comparable to an ocean in his raging period yet the magus seemed unmoved by this apparent warning. It was a red flag for disapproval and disobedience.  
  
In a glimpse of an eye, the count stormed out of the study room, leaving flying papers behind his back.  
  
He asked the first maid that he encountered on his way: "Did you bring the coffin inside?"  
  
"My lord, what?" the young woman was confused.  
  
He comprehended that she didn't know, hence he stormed in the same crazy speed. Searching for the whereabouts of this important coffin. His breath didn't calm down until he spotted the reddish-brown box made from mahogany in one of the vacant rooms. He approached the coffin and tried to open it.  
  
Inside it was a young girl about eight or nine years old body. She had a crimson wavy long hair that hugged her small resting head and neck. She was carefully dressed as if she were going to a prestigious party, beside her a lovely doll with blond hair and blue eyes. Aside from the paleness that painted her porcelain skin, this girl appeared taking a nap or sleeping the fatigue out of her small body.  
  
Francis's heart grew more tranquil when he confirmed that the coffin wasn't empty.  
  
He retreated in relief, and after he got out of the room, he carefully shut the door behind him, the sunlight should never enter this room. He halted there, gaping the floor grinding his teeth in solitude. Only his crimson eyes moved to the side when he noticed a fainted clutter of a squawk forthcoming toward his place.  
  
The feature of the dark shadow became more recognizable when the distance between the two of them decreased. He mumbled before the clutter stopped: "Please! No comment."  
  
Nicolai halted and waited for the count in silence until he walked away. Then he entered the room. The scenery of the coffin made his senses numb. He walked near the coffin and used his cane to touch it to confirm that it wasn't an illusion. After the doubts had left his heart, he declared in regret: "I have really become short-sighted."  
  
Later on, the ambiance at the dining table was everything but friendly, the Count took the head seats at one of the ends of the rectangular table. While his important guests ware occupying the right head seats. And Mr. Hendrickson took the left head seat. The dreadful silence was dominating the atmosphere, only the sound of spoons hitting the vitreous bottom of the plates confirmed that this is a dining room for living beings, not dead.  
  
Kanari was confused at the complex etiquettes she was withstanding, she asked herself many times ¨ Does really a person need this many types of spoons, forks, knives, and the overlapping plates to enjoy a satisfying meal? ¨. Yet the thing that she couldn't understand the most was the scarce quantity of the food that was elegantly presented on the plates. And regardless of its beautiful representation. Was it really enough to fill a hungry mouth? Even if there was a multiple serving she was certain that she was going to starve all the days that she was going to stay here.  
  
She glimpsed at her mother's way, capturing the right method to use those spoons and forks and tried to copy her manners. In her struggle, she felt a dim distant gaze on her. She followed her intuition and lifted her head toward the source of the stares to see the smirks of Mr. Hendrickson directed at her struggle. She looked back at her plate and continued her attempts to cut the small piece of meat with the wrong knife.  
  
When her mother noticed her, she proceeded to correct her faults while showing her the right instrument to cut the meat. And she took the opportunity to whisper in her ear: "Do not get distracted or intimidated."  
  
No one knew better than Kanari that her mother adores talking and giving instructions in an obscure fashion. Maybe that was because of the habits and experiences that she had built over the long rough years.  
  
Kanari observed all attendants as she sewed the piece of meat inside of her mouth and sucked the juice that came out of it.  
  
She was still roaming the food with her tongue, but suddenly swallowed it when she noticed what she thought was the meaning behind her mother earlier remark.  
  
She had a sip of water and simultaneously stole a glimpse of the crimson lord to confirm her speculations.  
  
The morning of the next day, Kanari visited her mother's room to find her studying the terms and conditions that the Count has sent to them representing his the list of the demands that he sought to be fulfilled. She used the opportunity to check the scenery across the balcony. Comparing the gloomy view the window of her room opened up to the scenery that she beheld from the balcony. There was a huge difference.  
  
The balcony was opened on the main yard; the view was refreshingly marking the near end of the winter, unlike the gloomy headstones, the backyard offered to her window.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
She heard her mother's voice as she joined her.  
  
Kanari rested her chin on her right hand as she refined to ask the question that made her visit, her mother in the first place. And changed the subject, but never shied from the complaining: "Mother, you have promised us that we are the ones who will undertake the responsibility to retrieve the chimera farm."  
  
Her mother tried to confine her laugh, yet her eyes showed her deep amusement. She was sneering and proud at the same time, and she found it difficult to give her pleading: "Sorry, Sorry… I couldn't help myself. I was just too curious. But are you sure that you didn't want my opinion?"  
  
Kanari pouted her lips: "well, yeah… Promise me that you will not interfere without me asking you."  
  
"Of course, dear…"  
  
She stole a glimpse from her mother notes secretly comparing them to her then she added: "Then, how about you inspect my revisions, and we can take notes together."


	27. Chapter Twenty-seven: A glimpse at distinct motives

The mother pair of pale glittering yellow eyes softened at the melting frustrations on her daughter's face and felt safe to continue: "I merely thought that I could give you some pieces of advice on how to read and marks the opening in negotiation."  
  
Kanari moistened her lower lip as she thought about the negotiation and her mother's declaration. Next she asked: "Seriously mother, you are truly not favoring the recurrence to power and fighting?"  
  
She lowered her eyes to look at the floor before she questioned: "Why? Don't we have the upper hand? We can easily turn the table in no time."  
  
Kanari's mother sigh, then leaned on the balcony searching for a method to explain her view on the situation. However, she assumed that a wordy explanation wasn't enough to convince her daughter why the negotiation was the best course of action she should follow for the time being. Maybe, this kind of things was better understood by experience and age rather than a told theory.  
  
This choice of recurring to a peaceful negotiation before the use of power, she herself was never satisfied with when she was her daughter age. And no matter the number of opinions that advised her to take this long road, she never comprehended or believed in its advantage, instead, she used to consider it a waste of time as well as a valuable effort, till that day, when her mistakes backfired on her and lost someone very important. After all, negotiations were another form of a battle that fought around tables.  
  
In other perspectives, she didn't want her daughter to repeat her mother many oversights, if so, how she could call herself a good mother? For, Akila thought what could it be the best method to teach the children about the importance of negotiation with minimum loss.  
  
She signaled to Kanari to return to the room and proceeded to ask her: "You must have finished reading the proposed treaty since you want me to check the revisions you have made?  
  
"No. Not all of it, I became nauseous at the greedy advantages that man wanted to secure, he thinks that he is doing us a favor by returning back, the farm that it was ours in the first place."  
  
"Naturally, he will ask for as much as he can, it is the essence of any negotiation to aim high and raise your gain to the scoop so the minimum will be always near your expectation." Akila gave Kanari a meaningful look before she continued: "Don't you think that his conditions tell us something about himself?"  
  
Kanari looked inquisitive as she didn't find an answer thus Akila resumed: "The Count is not pampered little master who doesn't grasp the way of the world as I have previously judged him a romantic dreamer based on his refined taste of aesthetic."  
  
Kanari nodded in approval, reflecting deeply as someone suddenly reached the pinnacle of awareness. Her mother was right, this man outsmarted Nicolai Hendrickson, there is no way he would be a ordinary romantic dreamer. Her mother was quick to capture the change in Kanari perspective, thus she asked: "Then, how about we read it together, before the arrival."  
  
Before they could continue their conversation, the two of them got alerted by sensing approaching steps behind the door.  
  
Kanari picked the closest position to the door and leaned her back on the wall. Her almond-shaped pupil became narrow as her white curved fangs gotten more visible under her lips. She was resisting the pressure in her fingernail to grow and turn to claws. Her control became weaker and weaker as the jasmine scent got stronger.  
  
With the corner of her eyes, She took a glimpse at her mother state. She didn't understand why she was calm. The count never mentioned that he will contact them personally, he has always used mediators. By coming here in person, this didn't bode well.  
  
In the end, Kanari retreated after her doubt appeased. She halted afar from the door observing her mother opening it. Her face painted with unfriendliness when she became lucid of Mr. Hendrickson identity. He was asking her mother to take a stroll with him in the garden.  
  
She clearly appreciated her mother nodding with approval. The air between them was filled with questions and seriousness. And as much as she was indifferent to the matter, she experienced a intense need to accompany them. Her gut feeling informed her that this conversation will shed light on a lot of events on what had happened in this farm since the emergence of the one-way reflective force-field. And maybe the reason: why? And how? Mr. Hendrickson supply deteriorated before it got ceased for good in those last months.  
  
****  
  
The sky was dark, sunlight shied behind the inky clouds and the wind was cold. Kanari cursed her impatience while hugging her body with her arms, she should have wore something thick before tagging along.  
  
"Akila! I mean My Lady…" Nicolai's voice resembled the voice of a convict whom he didn't provide an alibi. Or that's how it seemed to the Lady he was talking to.  
  
"To be honest, I was shocked when you have sent Be-an to contact me. I thought for a long time that you were gone."  
  
Akila's long dark hair frisked with the blowing wind, the breeze was cold yet it had craved touch that stamped the impending smell of the spring. She was allowing Mr. Hendrickson her back, as she was a few steps ahead of him.  
  
Her daughter Kanari was moderately behind the two of them, far enough to overhear the conversation, but not as close as to disturb it. It seemed that her mother wasn't bothered by her presence.  
  
"You look very pitiful," Akila said as she kept the two of them behind her back as if she possessed a pair of invisible eyes guarding her.  
  
Her daughter shifted her full concentration from her mother to Mr. Hendrickson's frame. She eagerly waited for his reaction, answer, anything. While he stood leaning on the wooden cane that supported his weight. But to her failure to satisfy her expectations, he gave nothing.  
  
"When I asked you before if your taste in aesthetic has changed, your response was: ¨NO¨.  
  
When Lady Akila didn't hear his voice, she shifted her head to the side to show her displeasure to him. And asked the real question that she meant to ask since she set a foot in this house: "What happened then?"  
  
She turned her full body to confront Mr. Hendrickson an unending silence and shouted:  
  
"If you didn't betray us, what happened then?"  
  
Kanari was amazed at the ever-changing expression of that man; she never warmed to him before. And now she started to find reasons on why she never liked him.  
  
Her mother's voice was carrying a fit of anger, that kind of calm and composed anger that she often used to scold her children with when they made a heavy slip. Yet, at the same time, this anger was a tiny bit distinct from the anger Kanari was used to challenge. Perhaps because that scolding anger was an important and a necessary one in their road of learning about this word. What she has found strange that; whenever they commit these heavy slips their mother always seemed to have some kind of prior knowledge about it, so the casualties never were devastating. At the moment, she wondered what kind of consequence her mother's anger will cause Mr. Hendrickson…  
  
"What an excuse that you are going to present to me, so I am going to forgive you?"  
  
A few moments passed in silence, where Mr. Hendrickson and Lady Akila exchanged ambiguous glares that Kanari couldn't decipher its meaning. Neither she could understand Mr. Hendrickson when he finally said: "I believe that you already have an idea about my excuse. But mostly was my carelessness."  
  
Kanari complained in her heart as she watched this two-person play ¨They should really stop talking in riddles, so I could grasp what's going on.¨  
  
And then when her mother's glares targeted the place where she was standing, she felt that she was experiencing a heart attack. As the cold droplet of sweat started to form on her forehead a hazy scream inside her head became clear: "She knows, She absolutely knows about what I and my sister secret plan."


	28. Chapter Twenty-eight: A feeble smell of blood

"Lady Savannah is here..."  
  
"Does that mean that my debt is paid off, am I a free man now?"  
  
"But my mission wasn't fully completed… The one-way barrier is still up and perfectly working. ¨  
  
"Does that mean Lady Savannah found a way to trace passed it?"  
  
Rokah repeated those questions in his head like a sacred mantra, while traveling the tiny surface of his room. And covering the distance between the door and the window for a thousand times. He was like a lost apache ant that didn't know where it supposed to go or do.  
  
Since he was shocked by Lady Savannah, sudden arrival, his brain stopped working, and he was only drowning in the illusion of the joy of being almost free. Free to continue his journey to the south, where this strong urge pushes him to move forward and guide him like a compass to find the truth about himself.  
  
For an instant, He didn't question the reason that caused Savannah early arrival before he could destroy the invisible barrier as they had agreed on.  
  
For a few minutes of intense bliss, he simply didn't care to ask this question. However, the moment his drank mind recovered some of his logic, the entire joy he felt crumbled like a sandcastle under the waves of reality. After all, he didn't fully complete the task that was assigned to him.  
  
Lady Savannah is a pragmatic person and only cared for results, Does that mean she will not acknowledge his effort and consider his debt still not fully paid.  
  
Will his life be chained forever? Those thoughts scared him more than death.  
  
When he walked toward the table, he saw the pouch that madam Linda brought with her the last time she visited him. She was worried about his well-being. She even brought him some food.  
  
She is not an unfeeling dump animal. All the mongrels in this village weren't a menial, wretched animals as the Metamorph clans believed them to be.  
  
They are… they are victims, prisoners, slaves…  
  
He witnessed it with his own eyes, and he realized that he was one of those unlucky creatures.  
  
Even so, what he could do for them? What are they going to do about it if they found what was going on?  
  
Interfering in the game with the big players won't change his position or fulfill his existence. Because, in the end, he understood very well that he wasn't a savior neither a herald.  
  
These feelings of familiarity, belonging, and equality that bloomed in his soul while living between his own pitiful kind should never be confused with the reality  
  
He should never mix the truth with his wishful thinking to save them for the upcoming.  
  
He looked at the half-finished painting and wondered about the truth.  
  
Did he, himself, knew the truth about what is going on?  
  
Did really Lady Savannah tell him the truth? The whole truth…  
  
Deep down, he found that what had Lady Savannah told him, who he had encountered in this village, and in what he has experienced by himself, there were massive piles of contradictions.  
  
Maybe this task, that he was forced to accomplish as freedom payment for the benefits of the Crocotta clan wasn't in vain. Maybe fate sent him here to find his origin because he was also a mongrel like them…  
  
He lifted his right hand and intensely looked at the white fabric that wrapped around it, then he rolled up his sleeve to his elbow and started to remove it. The dark black skin that emerged from under the white bandage made his passive face change. His eyes covered by a tint of seriousness. He joined his fingers to make a fist and murmured between his lips " let's see to what an extent a mongrel can go? ¨  
  
He is going to find the truth all by himself.  
  
For starter, he thought about what had Mr. Hendrickson implied, about the origin of the critical physical deformities and severe congenital malformations that run rampage in this village.  
  
He had thought only about one person whom he could give him some answers about the foundation of this village; the village elder.  
  
***  
  
Inside the warm room, the doctor poured a white powder in a wooden bowl. Then he mixed it with the soup till it became a homogeneous blend and a little bit vicious. He used the wooden spoon to taste the mixture; a pleased look invaded his face after he swallowed the simple. He placed this preparation on the table and opened the door to look for the source of the subtle commotion that he sensed outside. It was dark and cold, but the whiff held a delicate trace of fragrance with a touch of the metallic scent of blood. He closed the door, then rested his back on it while speculating on what probably would have happened. This must be the scent of a clash, a clash that took place in a closed area that why the smell was so feeble.  
  
Rokah thoughts jumped between the Aractanthrope to Lady Savannah, the two of them must have crossed each other path. The Aractantrope won't sense lady, Savannah because of his olfactory disability, thus he won't be able to avoid her.  
  
The angles of his lips curved to draw a wicked grin as he let his heart indulge in moments of epicaricacy, yet the Noise that came from the corner of the room brought him back from this pleasurable vision. He glanced at the elder woman that was lying on the bed and started to wake up.  
  
He murmured between his lips ¨Serve you right.". This unexpected opportunity to dispose of that arrogant man presented itself on a silver plate. Lady Savannah surely will take care of him, since never tolerated illegal trespassers.  
  
While he took the wooden bowl and sat near the bed. He tried to feed the old woman after he helped her take a suitable seating posture, so she safely could eat. And the wicked grin has yet to leave his mouth.  
  
Recalling how she manhandled that Lycanthrope rendering him half dead. This Aracanthrope will certainly not survive the aftermath. Because despite her bad habits of not finishing off her opponents by a fatal blow, Rokah will make sure that he will finish the rest.  
  
Just a few spoons and the old women didn't want more, Rokah didn't want to force her. This was the nature of the elderly; they don't have the desire or the will to eat. As if the instinct of eating has become a heavy and painful obligation.  
  
He cast the bowl aside and helped her to lie flat on her back. When she felt comfortable enough, she mumbled a thank-you.  
  
Her milky, watery eyes seemed so tired, she closed them and said to that flimsy voice:  
  
"Listen to me, taking care of me every day. I know it is tiring for a youngster like you."  
  
"Don't feel guilty madam, this is my work. How I am going to call myself a doctor if I get tired of taking care of my patients."  
  
"I feel my end approaching…"  
  
Rokah wicked grin bleached and his face made a neutral look before he adjusted the position of the wooden small chair, so he could hear her better, then he asked: "Do you fear death?"  
  
The old woman took her time to the point that he thought that she didn't hear him. But before he could repeat his question she mumbled a tiny word between her weather-worn lips " No."  
  
He waited for her, so she could take her breath and asked again: "Then do you have regrets?"  
  
The woman was startled, her eyelid quickly shifted to let the light touch her eyes. And compared to the last time, her answer was fast to come: "Countless…"  
  
"That's right, I remember, you told me that settling down in this village was your family biggest regret…"  
  
"Mm, Mm, Mm."  
  
Rokah hushed and spent a few seconds observing the small, weary body that was barely visible under the sheet, he felt the sorrow eating his heart from the inside like a fire. He felt so useless like always when it came to this kind of situations.  
  
It was somehow like déjà vu, he must have witnessed someone dear to him in his death bed, alone, abandoned by everyone…  
  
How nostalgic! How grimly nostalgic…  
  
But he needed to know more, it will be sadder if the truth about this place sank with the elder death.  
  
"You told me before that you were never called mongrels, that this appellation was a new... That we, mongrels where called Chimera..."  
  
After a Silence…  
  
"He makes us fight between us, all my regrets started because of that man."  
  
"Which man?"


	29. Chapter Twenty-nine: A siblings hidden plot

Kanari unsealed the  door of her  room , and because her  mind was  filled with many intricate ideas  she didn't  notice or  remark the  change that occurred to the  furniture .   
  
She was exactly like a half conscience doll that  looked but did not see,  eyes into the  void and mind stranded in  fear of her  mother knowing what  she and her  sister were  doing . The matter of Mr. Hendrickson double-crossing them or being also a victim didn't interest her anymore.   
  
In case he became proud of himself to the point of being an obstacle, she should just be prepared to eliminate him. Perhaps, her sister and mother still feel grateful for his assistance to what had happened ten years ago. However, Kanari believed they had paid all their debt to him and even more.   
  
The only thing that disturbed her trail of thoughts was the rotten odor that found its way sneaking across the unlocked window.   
  
After that awful odor made her senses sink in a swamp-like atmosphere,  she couldn't keep her string of reasoning intact,  thus she quickly hurried to  shut the window glass and proceeded to spray her preferred perfume on her  clothes and in the  air to get rid of this  feeling of filth.   
  
When she felt satisfied enough and regained her awareness. She returned the aroma bottle to her place. There was a moment when her perceptions ticked on. An impression of peculiarity surrounded her entire presence. There was something strange and different she couldn't describe it or determine its essence. This strange thing gave the room a touch of familiarity and easiness. Her heart rhythm accelerated steadily when she started to define in general the different areas in the room that got affected by the change.   
  
It  took her slight effort to  remember that  she didn't  leave the  window open when  she left earlier or  dropped her notebook on the  bed for anyone to  see . She wondered if there was someone who had entered this room while she was away. Maybe it was one of the maids. Considering she has never seen — in her life — this number of servants in one house before. Those boastful aristocrats who needed to be served day long should start learning to do things by themselves.   
  
If that was the case. Hereby,  she decided to  request from them, tomorrow, to  not \- whatever they were  doing here - enter this  room again during all the  time of her stay.   
  
She threw herself toward the bed to pick up her notebook, she wasn't actually stressed if somebody of the servants had browsed through it. Since she was confident that they wouldn't understand the base of her cipher. It was a good thing that she has encoded all her notes and remarks.   
  
While she was checking her notes, she heard the door of the washroom open from the inside. She froze on the spot, and a growing voice came from within her head warning her that this wasn't one of the servants…   
  
The vague smell of the diluted blood mixed with the  water escaped from the  small opening,  wave after  wave in  harmony with the  sound of the  flow of the  water .   
  
In glimpses of an eye, she hid her notebook under the pillow and searched for something, anything that could be used as a weapon. Her hands settled on the silver candlestick, then she approached slowly close to the door of the annexed washroom. Before she could collect her courage and tried to push the door with her full force.   
  
The door got open without her getting a chance to even touch it.   
  
The  candlestick fell from her  hand due to the sudden shock,  she was  going to  scream , but a wet and cold  hand concealed her  mouth , while another  hand stopped the  candlestick from  falling to the floor and  causing a  racket .   
  
Kanari held the  hand that  covered her  mouth , then  she cast it away furiously, her  eyebrows pulled down,  causing a deep line to  appear on her  forehead . And despite her intense anger, she managed to control herself and blame the other person without being loud: "Savannah! You almost killed me. "   
  
Savannah had taken the opportunity to place the candlestick in its former position before she sat on the bed while listening to her sister's condemnation and nagging.   
  
"Where were you all this time? What is this smell? Isn't it the smell of blood? What happened? Weren't you supposed to get in here before me? You are giving mother another reason to suspect us. "   
  
"Don't worry, everything is under control."   
  
Savannah answered all the worries of her sister with those vague words, nevertheless she was rather confident in what she had declared just now. She let her back drop on the soft mattress. The  bed shook under the  weight of her  body a few  times before it became  balanced ,  she closed her  eyes ,  enjoying this faded vibration and waited with  awareness the  continuation of the  torrent of the  questions her  sister was  going to  bombard her with like rain.   
  
However, the  unbroken silence  made her open one of her  eyes and  observe the  expression on her  sister 's  face to  find that the  anger had yet to  leave her  face .   
  
She said revoking: "Did you expect me to enter by the main gate?"   
  
"This is not what I meant."   
  
Savannah took the seating position again and said, trying to seem apathetic by changing the subject of the argument: "Do you remember the Amarok?"   
  
"Oh… my god, that's why you were late, was his physical condition improved? Did you two fight? "   
  
"Yes, no. Be patient, one question at a time. But I must congratulate you, your theory was right… "   
  
"I told you." Kanari's face brightened at the compliment. "Well, it's not exactly my theory, but I didn't find any record if my mother tested it." She said trying to be humble as much as she could. "It was a big risk. But if that Amarok is walking on his feet that means our fake doctor is operating at a top-level. "   
  
"I hope it will work." Savannah said as she recalled the Kerit talk, for her it didn't matter if he was a cheap copy as long as she will fulfill her goal.   
  
"I think mother won't be pleased with what we are doing behind her back." Kanari couldn't stop herself from adding this remark.   
  
The atmosphere seemed a little bit darker than before, Savannah inhaled and said, her tone carried a bit of hidden anger: "Kanari! I told you I would take all the blame. "   
  
She stopped, then she tried to change the subject: "Besides, I don't want to trouble her more than I already have."   
  
Kanari too didn't want to start an argument. This was not the place or the time for it. And the last sentence of her sister melted her heart. She picked up the other edge of the bed to sit on it, letting her back oppose her sister, yet she didn't say another word. Savannah understood that this movement didn't bode well, hence she took the initiative and asked: "Things are no better?"   
  
"Maybe… I think; mother is suspecting us, plotting something behind her back… "   
  
"Are you sure, not over-worried like every time."   
  
"Maybe…" Kanari highlighted, "It's not like she is a Seer or something, you know how much her receptors are sensitive. "This was Kanari attempt to lighten the air.   
  
Savannah got up and flew toward the closed door. She placed her ear on it and indicated to her sister using her index finger on her lips to hush.   
  
After a second she said in a low voice: "Two persons are approaching."   
  
As the steps became clearer, Savannah had rested her forehead on the door before she turned to her sister and declared: "Don't worry, it is Ma with someone…"   
  
It jumped to Kanari's mind that it was Hendrickson, who escorted her mother before she got a signal from her sister reporting that the second person had retreated.   
  
It took Akila a few minutes to get to the room where her daughters were, she wasn't that near to their place.   
  



	30. Chapter Thirty: A shrewd game of influence

"Where were you all this time?" Akila asked,  directing her  attention to the leisurely, relaxed on bed Savannah, her  eyes were narrowed and  gave off the  glow of  suspicion . But her tone was more honest and firm.   
  
"Ah… Ma!… Do not tell me that you expected me to enter through the main gate? "   
  
Akila face made more strict and serious expressions, Savannah raised and sat then she said recanting: "I explored the place for a bit."   
  
"You didn't think about the possibility of being found out, saying that you don't want to officially participate in the negotiation is your choice, but making thing harder, this is surely won't help your sister."   
  
Savannah interrupted the eye contact and shifted her focus to the side; It appeared that her mother still angry about her decision to give up in officially participate in the Chimera village retrieval operation.   
  
"There are no worries, scouting is my specialty. And didn't you say yourself that we should always collect information about our enemies before thinking aboutengaging them? ". Savannah tried to wash up the awkwardness.   
  
"Of course, that the overall point of this negotiation, if it didn't work we will be at least aware of our adversary."   
  
In other hand,  Akila was unconvinced, more accurately doubtful about the  reason her eldest daughter refused to  actively participate in this  operation and  chose to  be a silent ghost, could  it be because she  wanted to  move things behind the  scenes ?   
  
After all, Savannah has been always confident in her choices; it wasn't like her assuredness was misplaced but self-confidence is a wonderful thing and a double-edged sword, especially if it is misused. Akila tried to take this opportunity and make her daughter understand the other side of being over-confident: "No matter how good you are, a Seer will always be able to detect your presence."   
  
"Do you mean Hendrickson? He isn't a threat anymore, his eyes aren't as sharp as it was before. "   
  
For an  instant ,  Akila was taken aback,  she seemed eager to  know the  source of this  information more than continuing her lesson, and Savannah felt as if  she had  said something  she should keep to herself.   
  
Akila pondered , regardless of this information source, if what her  daughter had  said was true, then there was nothing unexpected  she will fear anymore.   
  
For she knew how dangerous Nicolai was, she witnesses his outstanding ability to turn the table around. He was the biggest thorn that gigged her throat for the time being. From the moment she got inside the protective barrier, she tried to determine which side he was backing up. She used different methods; a subtle question, a direct confrontation, and despite his constant confirmation that he is  still in her  favor ,  she couldn't bring herself to completely believe in his  words . There was still that fine thread of doubt that entangled her heart and made her dreadfully. But if he is going blind, that entirely meant another story.   
  
In this case, she will just step aside and watch over Kanari as she makes her debut in this harsh word that mostly based on mutual interests. As for Savannah true motives for not participating in this experience, she already got the hang of them and will explore them sooner...   
  
She asked for confirmation, gauging deep: "Really, how did you know that?"   
  
She knew that Savannah's helpful information wasn't the result of one-night work, it must be the outcome of careful and delicate preparation. Maybe this overconfidence she had shown was actually a mere facade to hide her real motives.   
  
Akila never felt proud before, it is a good thing that her children will take initiative to start and plan for something, but this aroused the following question; what kind of work and planning that Savannah did to gather those subtle, personal information.   
  
She never imagined how furious she would be when she will find out the truth.   
  
"That's what I have found while exploring the farm…" Savannah was stuttering while she thought of this very not impressive little white lie. Everyone could discern that wasn't the reality. But Akila state of happiness and joy made her let the matter slide for the time being. Then she  turned her  concern to  Kanari that was  looking to the  floor all the  time of the  conversation , and  trying with  all her might to  avoid any eyes contact with her  mother . This behavior made Akila certain that Kanari had a helping hand in getting this piece of critical information.   
  
Oh, well, what are those trouble makers joining hands for?   
  
Akila finally decided that any punishment will come after the end of this mess.   
  
She called Kanari and said: "It's the time for dinner, let's go Kanari." Then she looked at Savannah and remarked in a voice full of irony: "you should be careful, so no one will find about your presence."   
  
Savannah was dumbfounded, she was also famished. Kanari had hissed in her ear before she got out: ¨ You are not  missing anything, the  food here is delicious, but the  quantity is merely sufficient, you don't need to torture yourself. ¨   
  
In the way to the dining room, there wasn't much interacting between the mother and the daughter. Kanari was keeping her hand on her heart in anticipation after Savannah half-assed lie, and the doubtful reaction of her mother. She was more convinced than ever that her mother has a level, even if it was just a tiny suspicion about their crazy plan. Hence ,  she didn't  say a  word ,  just taking rapid glances at her  mother 's  face , between  now and then, so  she could at least predict what was  going in her  mind .   
  
She was frightened when she only deciphered the seriousness on her visage. That kind of seriousness that she rarely witness unless there was something big her mother decided to do.   
  
She prayed silently in her kernel that whatever her mother deciding, it is not related to their future punishment.   
  
The dining table was as marvelous and complicated as  kanari remembers it, the  food beautifully  served and organized, the  eyes satiated with the  charm of the  colors and  shapes of the  dishes yet the  stomach only get teased by the  taste and the  delight . At least for Kanari distress.   
  
The atmosphere during the meal didn't changea lot from the first dinner. Only the feeling of familiaritymade it somehow acceptable, Kanari already learned to use half of the equipment and threw herself in applying what she had learned. While Akila was concentrating more on the movements of the other parties as she elegantly ate.   
  
She noted Nicolai motion to reach a plate that was near to her. She grinned , then used the  handkerchief to  wipe her  lips , afterward  she reached for the same plate before the  maid that tried to  help and  bring it near  Nicolai range.   
  
She heard him thank her politely.   
  
It was habitually his charm, his elegance and the high manners that he carried himself with, no matter how terrible the situation he was in. What a gentleman…   
  
But that's only to hide his carnivorous true character.   
  
Oh,   
  
Wasn't she like him?   
  
Weren't all the supreme predators superb at this kind of games of faking facades…   
  
She gave him one of her best charming poisonous smiles and replied: "My dear good sir… you should take extra care of yourself. I have heard that eyesight grew defective not just from the old age, but also with unhealthy food. "   
  
She calmly resumed her meal, yet everybody was frozen at her comment.   
  
Kanari stopped chewing the  food in her  mouth and with the  corner of her  eyes , she  stole glimpses of her mother  figure ,  trying to  figure out her  purpose out of these  words . While  Nicolai observed her for a split-second before  he returned to his  meal as if  he didn't  hear anything, but the  looks on his  face that  lasted just a  fraction of a  second was  unfathomable . And the count couldn't stop shifting his eyes filled with doubt between the two of them.


	31. Chapter Thirty-one: A wavering self solace

The inner darkness was  draining the  thread of  life out of the music  room \- previously the study  room -, except for, an  unyielding shallow light sustained by a small candle near the  window .   
  
After each definite period of time, a tune resulting from a careless push on one of the piano keys, delivered from the inner part of the savage obscurity.   
  
The  tunes weren't in harmony with each other, they were spontaneous and  unquestionably not blueprinted, but in the  interval , which was concurrent with the weak flare of the  candle .   
  
When the  flare became intense, for a few  seconds , it  revealed a featureless silhouette in a sitting posture, stationed before the piano keyboard. The head was resting on one hand, while the other hand floating above the keys and occasionally tapping on one of them.   
  
The flare bleached, and with it, the featureless silhouette sank again in the aggregate darkness. And the repeated circle of the silent aggregated darkness and the flimsy weak brightness that mixed with a lonely musical tune continued, up till the  flame ate the whole fuse and melted away the entire the  wax .   
  
Finally, this absolute obscurity blended with a terrifying silence that oppressed the ambiance in the music room. However, it didn't take long for this depressing prison to be disturbed by a firm step accompanied by a fainted light that became stronger with each approaching move.   
  
Francis snatched the lantern in his hand, aiming to light and explore all the corners in the room. As soon as the light broke on the profile of a humanoid silhouette, Francis seemed like someone who has found what he was searching for. And without a delay, he placed the lantern next to the withered candle before he proceeded to open the dark curtains that obstructed the window transparent glass.   
  
The  sky was also  dark , yet the  light that  shined from the  stars and the incomplete moon, helped in lessening the eeriness of the  night , not just on the outside but as well as inside the music room. Yet, Still Nicolaihasn't moved or generated any reaction, even his index that's used to tap the piano keys, now and then upon the rhythm of the flare, stiffened.   
  
The count attempted to break this melancholic atmosphere by asking:   
  
"When did it start? ¨ referring to Lady Akila comment at the dinner.   
  
At last, the black shadow moved and looked at Francis; his incomprehensible lineaments concealed a raging fire made not just from anger but also from desperation. However, his underlying gauging determination made his general demeanor indifferent. He said with a calm voice like a passing breeze: "She is terrifying…"   
  
Francis answered, trying to be consoling: "All the women are terrifying."   
  
The Count certainly in Mr. Hendrickson view, didn't give this answer only because he also had quite trouble with some woman, thus Nicolai smiled before he commented: "When  I had  seen the  girl in the  coffin ,  I understood right away that your  relationship with the Duchess of De  Noblis won't be described as good  as it  was ." His smile was crafty more than being modest.   
  
A bleak glance quickly appeared on the Count's face as quickly it faded and it was all what Mr. Hendrickson wanted to confirm his uncertainty.   
  
"Do not change the subject." Francis replied, trying to be neutral, but his voice gave away a degree of discomfort when heheard the Duchess name, therefore heresumed the first subject, aiming to cover his irritation: "Do you suppose that the state of anemia is related to your defective eyesight?"   
  
"Maybe…"   
  
"If you notified me, I may have increased your ration."   
  
"Are you going to increase my ration?"   
  
"Maybe!"   
  
"Well, this is an offer hard to turn down…"   
  
The tune of Nicolai carried a mocking texture, and Francis felt it between the fold of his words, Hence it was the aftermath of their interactions. Yet Francis heart ticked with a bit of guilt, he expressed it by using of his chivalrous etiquette: "You must have understood that your past connections are now profitless; you need to forget all of them, they won't serve you longer. Currently, I am your sole ally. "   
  
"However, I do not think that your butlerapproves with your statement…"   
  
Directly, Francis perceived that this last comment was a verbal ploy. Much like the first comment on women.   
  
Well, Honestly, Francis admired Nicolai. He really does admire him. Perhaps, because of his firm strength to never give up, even when he is in the bottom of his defeat, He will forever try to find an exit by learning about the developments between the surrounding individuals, using all the tricky ways.   
  
He considered how to respond to this remark, so he could evade this trap. If he disregarded it and  changed the  topic , then  he would  be without a  doubt confirming whatever  thoughts that  Nicolai had , and  if he committed to the  silence ,  he will  just increase his  skepticism and  it will  make him  extra vigilant for the incoming interactions. There was only one way he could think of after he correctly had forged his reply in his mind to confirm his words: "He doesn't just disagree with me, but I will assure you he despises you for some unknown reasons… at least to me. "   
  
It was a smart reply, or that  what Nicolai had thought because  it seemed to him that the  Count had  pushed the offensive button, and  he is now extremely cautious in  what he said and consequently in  what he will  do later.   
  
The ongoing issue about the Chimera farm became less visible in Nicolai mind, he wondered what was the real path the Count had chosen?   
  
Is Francis going to concede to the Crocotta as he had told him before, then the disagreement with his butler will not get mended, it will only grow larger? Nevertheless, the possibility of what Francis said about giving up and a peaceful retreat was a mere talk for general consumption.   
  
Despite all the Count's flexible and permissive conducts, especially toward Nicolai. He was and still, in the end, one of the fearsome pure blood nobles.   
  
Finally, Nicolai decided that there was no merit in enduring a sterile conversation. Hence, he pretended to be tired, requiring some rest. But before he got out of the music room he noted: "I will gladly take your proposal about increasing my ration."   
  
Francis couldn't help himself and smiled and said in his mind: "no wonder Lady Akila face-slapped him with such a force in front of everybody. I am certain that Seaben will dance over the moon when his informer relays this information to him. "   
  
Francis watched the unsteady steps of Mr. Hendrickson as he walked through the hallway, he smirked: " Oh, My dear old friend Nicolai. Currently, I am your only ally. ¨   
  
***   
  
When Nicolai arrived in his room, the lack of tidiness captured his attention. He wondered if one of the  maids simply neglected her duty or the  news about him going blind had  reached the  ear of the  butler , and this  was his  approach to  communicate his intimidating message.   
  
He cleared his lungs, supported his weight on the can, then entered the room. After his eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, he sought the chair by his desk counting more on his memory of its place, then he put his injured leg on it to remove the shoe.   
  
What an arduous task to be accomplished only by himself.   
  
Since this afternoonwas a fatiguing one - on a multiple levels -, hethrew his body on the chair, hesolely used for his shoe, giving up on removing his formal clothes. His head extended beyond the chair-back, closing his eyes, not wishing to think of anything and letting his mind flew with the gravity of the darkness. Yet this small wish didn't get achieved, it was disturbed by a touch of cold metal on his bare neck…   
  



	32. Chapter Thirty-two : As you sow, shall you reap

Since Mr. Hendrickson lost his personal maid; Be-an, the process of taking care of the trivial matters like his clothes became a heavy and wearisome routine. Mainly, because of his unwell leg. Though the Count commended his butler to assign a few maids for him, yet they couldn't replace Be-an. Maybe because of her long stay with him that made her understand all his signals and preferences without the need for words.  
  
How easy Mr. Hendrickson daily life was; when Be-an was serving him, he repeatedly appreciated her presence, and after her inevitable sacrifice, he cherished her more.  
  
The dangerous mission, she undertook under his order was an important part of his plan. Especially when he foresaw her death while he couldn't foresee the identity of the one who killed her.  
  
Back then, He thought of sending her to the Crocotta as messenger; he will kill two birds with one stone, he would have protected her from that unknown aggressor and at the same time he will succeed in contacting the person whom he wished to contact out all the Crocotta clansmen.  
  
Now he wondered if the act of sending her to the Crocotta was what he got her killed in the first place?  
  
Sadly, Nicolai didn't have an answer to this question, and he was the one renowned for his clairvoyance ability as a Seer.  
  
Be-an wasn't just a simple maid; she was also a powerful bodyguard, then the person who harmed her wasn't an ordinary one.  
  
Who could be the one who killed her?  
  
Someone from the Crocotta clan?  
  
Lady Akila would never allow such a thing. She was the one who had gifted her to him in the first place. But Nicolai couldn't imagine that there was someone other than the Crocotta capable enough to incapacitate Be-an except of the Count. Yet that a weak conclusion to be made since Francis didn't leave the manor for a second.  
  
Those were Nicolai reflections that wished to expel from his exhausted mind without a success, however, they sailed away the moment he felt the cold metal on his neck.  
  
A low voice like a low night breeze whispered near his ear: "I want you to stay calm."  
  
He instantly identified the anonymous intruder, and he submitted to his desire.  
  
Well, it wasn't like he had a choice… He thought as he moved his head in the opposed direction of the cold metal without uttering a word, to show his consent, while his mind was reflecting on the absurd coincidence that made this person always chose the perfect time to meet him when he is in his lowest state.  
  
After he felt the coldness leave his neck, the boldness worked on his tongue, then he murmured: "How did you get in here?  
  
"Obviously, not from the main gate."  
  
Nicolai didn't expect a sarcastic answer, but the doctor was polite as ever. It came to him that their last ungraceful encounter — as he hoped — didn't distort the unfamiliar empathy that was established between the two of them.  
  
A cord of hope settled into Nicolai palm, And all kinds of new plans terrorized his mind.  
  
A few seconds later, a flimsy light projected on Mr. Hendrickson eyes, the source was a lantern near his bed. To his disbelief, a body, clearly belonged to one of the maids was lying above the white sheet. Unknown, whether she was dead or alive. It seemed that the Doctor understood Mr. Hendrickson inquiry when he said, explaining: "She is just unconscious…"  
  
Exactly like his first answer. The doctor's tone was polite, yet it has a completely different meaning when it compared to his facial appearance. Nicolai felt that there were arrows launched from those furious heterochromatic eyes to perforate his lifeless heart and began to second-guess his optimistic first opinion.  
  
The doctor held the lantern and walked toward him. His steps were quick, albeit silent like a professional burglar. And when he sat facing him, Nicolai tasted the water for a confirmation: "What makes you think that I won't expose your transgression?"  
  
"Because you know that I can throttle you before anyone could get to this remote room."  
  
The earlier polite tone disappeared and replaced by a hiss, a threatening hiss. It was the first time Nicolai heard the doctor talk to him like this. What a surprising dark side, he was hiding  
  
"Then why you didn't throttle me?" Mr. Hendrickson met the doctor angry eyes, mirroring his threatening voice. It was barely a few minutes before he saw the tenderness overthrew the cruelty in those heterochromatic eyes followed by a gentle tone: "I am sorry…"  
  
"I didn't mean what I said…"  
  
"I am just venting my anger…"  
  
Nicolai was speechless at the rapid change of behavior. It was far from his anticipation. He had restricted his cognitive abilities to focus on the series of excuses that was presented to him before he snapped up and alluded with his hands to Rokah to calm down.  
  
Rokah understood his gesture and whistled.  
  
"Why did you come here?" Nicolai asked while trying to shift his attention on the lantern, avoiding any eye contact. His tone was harsh.  
  
"You are mad?"  
  
"Of course, I am mad! You are threatening me in my room…"  
  
Nicolai responded while he observed the doctor who he was showing a bizarre behavioral pattern; stand and swiftly makes his way behind the door, the position he took was as if he was trying to abduct whoever was going to enter. After that, someone knocked on the door, it was without a doubt a maid. Nicolai had taken the chance before she tried to open the door and yelled: "I am resting, I don't want anyone to disturb me…"  
  
The maid apologized and walked away.  
  
¨ Thank you. ¨ Rokah said.  
  
But Nicolai didn't appear pleased with these thanks, his mind was kept by the respect of this higher awareness the doctor had shown. And simultaneously commented tasting the water: "what were you going to do, if I had chosen different words?"  
  
Rokah answered while pointing his forefinger to the body of the unconscious maid: "The same." Then, he had decided to return to his place before he continued: "The only maid that makes me alert was that one, what's her name… Ah, Be-an…she was at your service, right… The last time I saw her she wasn't in good shape. How is she now?"  
  
"She didn't make it."  
  
Nicolai face was expressionless as a blank white paper, however, he flinched when he perceived the doctor reply: "Good, It seems that you aren't angry anymore."  
  
Nicolai returned with lucid anger: "No, I am deadly mad at you. How did you know lots of things about me?"  
  
"That's my line Mr. Hendrickson; you are the one who starts this game."  
  
"…"  
  
"Don't you remember that time? At the mill, when I was with the maid that got mysteriously butchered… then the last time I got framed for being your puppet... Or whatever that monkey thought."  
  
" …"  
  
"You are the one who started this stalking game Mr. Hendrickson, I just couldn't help but reciprocate."  
  
Mr. Hendrickson couldn't deny a word. He just kept his silence as he listened to the segment of facts that blew into his face, exactly like a drop of rain hitting dry land.  
  
Back then, Nicolai was just curious and suspicious of the newcomer who approached him, he wanted to confirm his assumptions about his identity, who sent him? He never expected that he would get figured out. He badly wanted to comprehend how he figured it out…  
  
He sighed in admiration…  
  
What a splendid awareness and what higher sensitive senses…  
  
As the marvelous Be-an as she was, she never achieved this level of high awareness. What really a magnificent piece of art Akila had accomplished.  
  
This silence continued for a few moments before it got broken by Nicolai asking again: "Are you angry because I pried into your business? Then, he watched as Rokah gave him a wide smile stripped from all emotions before he answered him: "No."


	33. Chapter Thirty-Three : A honest self-confession

Rokah decided to be honest with himself, he actually never hated Mr. Hendrickson, he never felt the string of loathing violently vibrating in his presence, as much as he sensed his organs torn apart whenever he thought of the Aractanthrope or the hairy magus.

Was he biased?

Was it because Mr. Hendrickson was physically weaker than him? And he could get rid of him whenever he wished.

Maybe, it was because of the circumstances of their meeting that made Rokah feels superior to the latter?

That day, he couldn't stop himself from following Mr. Hendrickson. And he still wonders why he tried to stop him. Why he even thought that the man was going to take his own life in the first place?

The scene of him, forcibly working his way under the blizzard in the direction of the cliff, fighting the cold wind was nostalgic for Rokah's memories and deeply resonating in his foreign ruptured self.

Mr. Hendrickson was a strange and complex individual. He didn't resemble anybody Rokah had met before. He was physically weak, disabled, yet his presence was overwhelming like a mountain peak penetrating the passing clouds.

When he observed him a few more times, he got the impression that this man can see through everything standing in front of him, be it a thick wall, closed doors or conscious being hiding deep, inside a self-made inner fortress. He made Rokah feels insecure, exposed, even behind his mind's iron fences.

All of that activated a degree of awareness, and stress, Rokah grew to experience another kind of fear, the fear of being naked, the fear of his ugly self getting bare in front of the whole outside world.

The decision to finally confront this man, face to face, without masks, he has taken a long time ago. But the courage to realize it was a force he reared simultaneously with his search for the truth about this village and its residents.

He just needed a push and Lady Savannah odd early arrival tied the knot of this decision as well as the village elder blessed it.

Rokah long had this strong belief that he won't advance in the journey to find himself, to get to salvation until he will face someone like this man, and he needed to face him, defenseless without a shield.

However, when he saw him today, the image of a demon with broken horns slashed in his imagination. This scene of Mr. Hendrickson as he struggled to sit on the chair and difficulty bending down to remove his shoes, Rokah figured it out at once; this man was distressed, insecure, exhausted and above all, he was in pain. This agonizing view of this man was extremely delightful and made Rokah's soul strangely satisfied and happily dancing above the azure.

Deep down in the darkness of the room, Rokah speculated about the reaction he will get if he intimidated Mr. Hendrickson's life. The very life that the latter wanted to cast away at that cold day.

When he placed the blade near his neck, the reaction he got was boring.

For a moment, Rokah perceived the notion that Mr. Hendrickson knew that he was not going to be killed. Not in this quick, peaceful way. Since Rokah got the illusion that this man thought that he deserved a painful outrageous death.

"You have told me that I resemble your father?"

Where was Rokah lost in when the conversation turned this way?

Resemble your father?

Rokah vaguely remembered he had said that.

Well, it was a lie…

Sometimes he forgot about uncalculated white lies that he formulated under the pressure of a given moment. Though, what did Mr. Hendrickson truly meant by mentioning it; right here and right now?

Was it his manner to tell Rokah that he knew that he was just a hollow collection of white lies dressed in an appealing mask.

Rokah smiled, maybe this was his first not misbegotten smile in like... He doesn't remember.

But Rokah was determined this time, he even took the risk to sneak into the manor. Now is the time to have an honest talk. It was the time to put off the mask:

"I was lying, Sir, and I wasn't alone in that. We were both lying to each other… and the two of us knew that we were lying to each other."

A cracking noise come from the bed. From the corner of his eyes, Rokah saw the maid starting to wake up. He will not allow this brave confrontation to be disturbed by any person. He moved near her then he tilted his head close to her ear and whispered: "rest assured, I am not going to hurt you. ¨ After, he closed her mouth and nose with a piece of wet fabric. The maid fumbled trying to take off his hand, but in the end, she fell unconscious. At the time she was resisting, Rokah was looking at Mr. Hendrickson, closely observing him, and Mr. Hendrickson looked back at him with eyes full of indifference.

"I do not understand you, you are not mad because I pried into your business neither you sympathize with me because I resemble someone dear to you, why did you come here then?" Mr. Hendrickson said after the wave of the tranquil spread through the room.

Rokah adjusted the position of the maid, wiping his hands on each other, he glared at him, it was the moment he was waiting for. He said, his voice was earnest: "The truth, Sir, I am here for the truth."

"The truth is not without a price…"

"I know, ……… then, name your price."

Rokah didn't know what had happened to Mr. Hendrickson that instant, he saw the light of salvage shine on his darkened, discouraged face. As if he gave him the keys to heaven, or he sent down the ropes to fetch him from his grave.

The sparks that lighted the fire of satisfaction in Rokah's heart a few moments ago got smoldered to ash. Mr. Hendrickson returned to his assured self. This was the demeanor of the terrifying Mr. Hendrickson that Rokah be held on many occasions.

"I want you to work for me." Mr. Hendrickson said with that awful smirk on his lips. And with his statement, an invisible lighting bolt struck Rokah body, rendered him senseless like dry tree trunk ready to be burned to ashes.

" You do not need to answer me now. Have your time. Think about it. And no matter your answer will be, I will tell you the reason behind the inducement of the inbreeding in the village." Mr. Hendrickson continued while his fingers were tapping restlessly on his cane's handle. He knew that this offer will raise Rokah curiosity, and regardless which decision Rokah will choose, he will end up seeking to meet him personally a second time.

This must be his real motive. This must be the reason behind his brightened visage and that awful smirk. Rokah thought.  
How came the situation turned upside down in a blink of an eye?  
This man certainly a master puppeteer, and he thought that he can wrap his threads around him as he wished.

Even so, Rokah didn't hate him or despised him. On the contrary, his way of playing with words kindled a blaze of reminiscence that slightly illuminate the closet of his confused memories each time he sees this man without his mask.

Was there someone from his past that has a cunning character and a smart-mouth personality that resembles Mr. Nicolai Hendrickson?


	34. Chapter Thirty-four: A promise for vengeance

Rokah got out of Mr. Hendrickson's personal chamber intending to never comply with his plot. He didn't want the man to get what he desired. It was simply payback for what has happened with the crimson lord and his butler. If Mr. Hendrickson didn't stalk him, Rokah wouldn't have attracted the unwelcome attention of the magus. And his plan to kill the Aractanthrope using the authority of the Count would have been a success. He would have avenged Chewa and kept his promise to Madam Linda. He could even get the chance to enter the main house without selling himself and signing the slavery pact.  
And about the quest to uncover the truth behind the isolation of this village and its mongrel residents, He will just search for another thread.  
But, thinking back to that unfortunate accident of misunderstanding, the fact that the magus thought about Rokah working for Mr. Hendrickson, an idea that didn't appeal to later at all. There must be a lot of conflicts going on inside the manor, and after seeing a piece of the large picture, Rokah figured that the biggest conflict was between the Magus and Mr. Hendrickson.  
How much he had wished that he got the chance to infiltrate the main house. If so, he will get more insight into what was going on. And maybe, he could ask Lady Savannah to get him a written permit for his efforts.  
Reminiscing over this lost opportunity, Rokah found himself approaching the central narrow roads of the tiny village, his breath contacted this antique scent that he grew accustomed to it over his lodging in this place.  
The warmth of nostalgia as he felt that he belonged to somewhere in this universe deceived his reality, and imprisoned him in its toxic illusion.  
Tonight, unlike any other sentimental nights, there was a blend with a yearning touch, some cold fragrance, created from a clotted blood washed by the melting snow. Rokah had a fainted memory of it. He detected this smell of blood, last night when it was hot and fresh. This was the reason behind the hopeful visualization he had cultivated deep down in his wishful mind about the one who got his blood poured.  
Rokah was way extra sure about the intersection between Lady Savannah's road and that of the Aractanthrope.  
Their fight must be quite a sight.  
The incomplete moon's dim light concluded the harmony of the disturbed souls and it helped Rokah shun the hindrances in his way.  
Did Lady Savannah already fulfill her promise to him?  
Did she finish off the Aractanthrope?  
He still remembers the conversation they had had when Lady Savannah gave him an unexpected visit like it was a few seconds ago:  
<< "Excellent job you have done here, I wasn't wrong when I have chosen you for this mission. You really deserve a reward. What do you wish for?"  
Savannah said while she was inspecting the detailed maps Rokah had drawn for the whole village and the main house, she also took all the data that he has collected about the residents, their number, age ranges, occupations, source of food… Even the birth and death rate… but what pleased her most was the notes Rokah made about the workers and the inhabitants of the manor.  
In one of the papers, the name of Mr. Nicolai Hendrickson topped the page, beneath it a number of remarks were written about his physical state and personality. Savannah glanced over it ravenously:  
" Anemic, his movements are slow and showed a muscular weakness, probably he was confined to a bed and unable to walk for a long period. His right leg deformation was caused by thigh bone fracture, he seemed that he didn't receive good medical care thus the deformity became permanent. He also has weak eyesight, maybe that's what made him sensitive to the light, especially bright light like sunlight."  
He glanced at her face while she was reading his note, the look of it was pleasant, therefore he demanded with discrete confidence: " I have suffered a lot of because of the Aractanthrope, if you get rid of him, it will be my biggest reward."  
She shifted her attention to him without moving her head and said: "Mmh! Do you know how much I detest this nomenclature? You must refrain from using it in front of me."  
"I am sorry my Lady, but I am not sure about the true nature of his second form, it has been just a lousy guess from my side, using the description of the villagers and the examination of a mutilated body assumed to be one of his victims."  
Lady Savannah's lips curved slightly before she asked: "Hmm, it must be a really a pain in the ass to deal with him to get you worked up this much?"  
"Yes, my lady, I nearly got killed on multiple occasions."  
"But you are not dead…"  
The silence filled the room, and Rokah remembered that he couldn't answer her question. She was right, the Aractanthrope could have simply killed him and searched through his things to get the map and the data he wanted. But he was very tolerant of Rokah menacing actions toward his person.  
It was a verity he had brushed up from his head because it was illogical compared to the aggressive and scorned behavior the Aractanthrope has shown toward mongrels.  
"Don't you think that your hatred clouded your judgment? Didn't you ask yourself why you are not dead yet?"  
Rokah mouth sealed with an invisible lock. He didn't have the right to protest, but his burning heart wished to see the Aractanthrope dead body eaten by maggots.  
Lady Savannah appeared to understand the clash between his feeling and his logic. She moved and patted his head, then said in a semi-comforting way: "Don't worry, as long as he is trace-passing the Crocotta's territory, he is doomed to be eliminated whether you had asked me for it or not."  
"And the corps?" He asked in anticipation, "Can I get his corpse."  
"Ah, don't be greedy.">>  
Rokah sighed in agony, he was physically and psychologically tired from the successive uncertain events that rolled without rest in those last days. Yet the outcome was unbelievably satisfying in his favor. He didn't have the courage or the power to wonder which bad root the events will have taken if Lady Savannah didn't appear in his room that night. It was so terrifying how a crushing power could change any situation with such ease.

Still, there was something he can't afford to neglect, and he didn't have any idea on how he was supposed to tackle it. If it happened that the lycanthrope presence will be discovered in the Crocotta territory, certainly the Lycanth will suffer the same fate of the Aractanthrope. But the big problem is how Rokah was going to explain the Lycanth survival and his presence in this village to Lady Savannah?  
Then, certainly, his peaceful days under her shadow will surely be terminated and the pact of his freedom will be undoubtfully revoked. Thus, he needed to locate the whereabouts of this Lycanth before the worst will befall on him.  
Since his body is recovering, the Lycanth still required a lot of care. But more than that he required nourishment so his regeneration ability won't slow down because of the cold or the starvation.  
Rokah decided that the Lycanth death was better than his life, there is no benefit in keeping him alive after his action. He only had one regret, too bad that the regeneration research should be stopped at this semi-advanced stage.  
That ungrateful bastard disregarded the countless hours Rokah spent caring for the injuries and wounds that lady Savannah inflicted on him.  
That bastard sold him at the lowest price to the very person whom Rokah despised the most in this place.  
However, at the end of the day, Rokah was just a doctor. And like any other average doctor, he doesn't give up on his patients, - no matter what- unless they die or recover.  
He closed the door behind. Then proceeded to shut the window after the draft of air caused it to open, whereas he was vowing to the supreme being that he was going to give that Lycanth the most painful, cruel death ever. He will let the maggots feast on his tortured, shear flesh while he was still breathing. He will make him suffer to the degree that he will beg for his own death.  
He swore that this will be his new mission for the next and last upcoming days of his stay in this village.


	35. Chapter Thirty-five : A shocking discovery

The intensive thinking process made Rokah collapse on the bed, like a lifeless stick, he was working his brain high and low, reasoning about the potential locations the Lycanthrope could use as a hideout. Since it was impossible for him to search in each and every bit in the whole village.

Judging by the Lycanth bad physical condition, he must be extra vigilant after he attempted to form an alliance with the Aracanthrope had failed. Yet this advantage also was a double-edged sword that could slice Rokah neck, especially if he didn't find him before Lady Savannah sharp senses.  
Maybe there is a way that will help Rokah made the extra vigilance of his prey work in his favor…  
How can he do that?

Perhaps, he could use meat as a bait to trap him. A slice of a fresh hunt, mixed with Valerian root, extract to sedate the Lycanth tired body. It will be excellent to transform him into a docile dog. But will his brain be so weakened to fall for it?  
Well, no harm in trying…

While Rokah mind started to drift into the hypnotic effect of the sleep, he recalled the echoes of Mr. Hendrickson talks about the reason behind the inbreeding in the village. This conversation didn’t want to leave his unconscious. And it made him have a second thought to what he had already concluded about the root of the dissemination of inbreeding.  
Was there another reason?

No matter how much Rokah has speculated about it; his imagination roamed the different possibilities, then returned to the same single, logical point.  
The barrier…

It works like a cage trapping all villagers and isolating them from the rest of the world, but even so, it was not like they didn't know about the existence of another world outside this place. How came, — except for some mongrels — like Chewa- no one of the residents had the idea or show an interest of leaving this village as if a world beyond these limited boundaries didn’t exist in their minds…

At first, Rokah considered it as a simple ignorance, implanted by fears, and lack of ambitions. However, after his open conversation with the elder. He was now lost in the chaos. Especially when he investigated the mongrels whom they wished to leave this village, most of them never come back to visit their family and the others were mysteriously dead or killed like Chewa.

Without hesitation, this village is surly an interface to prison or more accurately a slave farm. No wonder the inbreeding is widespread. But Rokah only witnessed first or second-generation offspring, rarely the third generation. It meant that this inbreeding is strictly monitored.

According to Mr. Hendrickson's confident talk, maybe there is another reason behind the inbreeding.  
Rokah won’t deny the possibility that it could be a bluff from that man's side for the purpose to stir curiosity in his heart and made his return to meet him again to get the answer…

Maybe this was Mr. Hendrickson's true objective from the start. He wanted to trap Rokah and make him seem as if he has betrayed the Crocotta’s clan. Since the man knew that Rokah was working for them. Indeed, Mr. Hendrickson was very much getting ahead of himself.  
By betraying the Crocotta, what will Rokah gain by it, it will only result in his doom and all his hard work for his freedom will go wasted.

He tossed left and right struggling to shove off the swarming war between his curiosity and his pride. But those hungry new hatched chicks of questions refused to desert his train of thought without an explanation.

He opened his weary eyes exploring the room for a little peace. They fell directly on the incomplete canvas which didn’t help much. He shifted them to the door, then to the table where he noticed the pouch of Madam Linda on its surface. It jumped to him the idea to take a look at the tavern and meet Madam Linda there while using the excuse of returning her pouch…

Walking down the road, Rokah sentimentality surfaced like a tiny piece of wood, not harmful but irksome. Madam Linda will certainly prepare a cup of warm milk for him. Then they will chat a little about the last hot topics that entice the resident's interest. With that, the tension built in his mind and body will ooze bit by bit on the pulses of the conversation.

He wondered if it was okay to tell her about his nearing departure, only to withstand her reaction. He just wanted to revive the feeling of being important to somebody, even for a transitory, short period of time. Still, Leaving silently in parallel with the winter cold breeze was his sole and best option.

The big wooden door was locked. Regardless of how much a force he used, it won’t open. He never recalled a time when the tavern was out of the service. It was always open, day and night. He gave up on pushing the door brainlessly and rested his two palms on the door. His head tilted toward the muggy soil while he closed his eyes. The strong liquor smell sent an arching wave of shivers belittled his frame. He rushed for the auxiliary door where the kitchen and the storehouse were located. However, it was also locked.

He stood there thinking about what possibly could have happened when he has heard a noise coming from the main opening. It was a group of woodcutters. They knocked on the door several times and called some names, but no one answered their calls.  
Rokah wanted to talk to them, maybe they knew why the tavern is closed, but he changed his mind when he saw them retreating peacefully.

He asked himself ¨ didn’t they find the closing of the tavern without a prior notification weird? ¨. But since they retreated in peace, he thought that he was the one who was overthinking the matter of tavern being closed.  
However, his sense that detects the danger didn’t misguide him. He knew it, the moment the fragrance of petrichor landed on his skin and surrounded the air he breathed. Its owner was approaching as it got stronger.

What a delightful coincidence? The person Rokah was looking for was walking toward him, or he so thought.  
He felt that he was standing on clouds; he must have consumed the luck of ten years.

While diving in drunkenness like state, he returned near the storehouse where they kept barrels. He bathed himself in liquor to mask his presence, then clumped the roof of the tavern and hide while reserving a clear view of the main entrance.  
Rokah heard a cracking underneath, he concluded that someone opened the door from the interior. He couldn’t know who it was until they entered his line of sight.  
The state of the happy drunkenness, he was in, got interrupted and quickly replaced by thousands of pinches to wake him up.

He was sure that Lady Savannah had killed the Aractanthrope, then why he is seeing his silhouette walking out of the tavern while carrying a big package on his back…  
Rokah's soul became distressed as the unanswered questions colonized his mind.  
What was going on?

If the Aractanthrope is alive… then to whom the smell of the blood that Rokah had detected belong?  
How come he is alive after Lady Savannah crossed his road?  
Rokah lifted his eyes looking at the distance, not just for an answer… He has glimpsed a black shadow approaching; it must be the source of the petrichor smell…  
More and more questions popped in his head...  
The petrichor smell belongs to the Lycanthrope then why he is advancing toward the place of the Aractanthrope?  
Are they working together?  
Rokah observed the Aractanthrope that stopped and put off the weight he was carrying… he looked as if he was waiting for someone.

Rokah, in a quick movement, let himself slide a little on the roof to the other side before he rested on his back while his hand closed tight on his mouth and nose. His heart must have stopped or exploded because he didn’t know if he was alive anymore when he perceived those keen pale yellow eyes checking the roof.  
Only one thought was clinging into his fading consciousness: ¨Lady Savannah and the Aractanthrope are working together."


	36. Chapter Thirty-six : A conflict of interest

The annexed hall wasn't as big or as glorious as the main hall. Nevertheless, it had its own charm and beauty. The hanged paintings, the marble statues on the corners at the entrance. They can't be described as less than the ones in the main hall, yet very different in style and allure.

Not so long ago, the head of the menservants started to use the annexed hall for his regular duties and meetings instead of the main hall. From giving new assignments to collecting the last developments about what was going on inside and outside the manor's walls.

Because of a few reasons, the main one was the latter disagreement that happened between the butler himself and his master. They just couldn't see or understand the perspective of each other. The persistence of the Count to abandon the farm, it meant to his butler only one thing; the Count Francis Leal Di Montez desired to put an end to his services. Along with the contract that unites the benefits of the two of them. Seaben's head couldn't think of anything else.

When the six maids, the count was concluded, they stand in one straight row to the right side of the butler. Their appearances can be compared to a set of dried small trees on the side of the road in the middle of winter. The stress and fear have made their way to their misshapen faces, painting shallow traces.

The butler swung the baton in the air to fall directly in the center of his other palm, producing a weak slapping sound. All the six maids shuddered, their eyes pointed at the floor, not daring to look at their master.

The butler enjoyed the impact of his baton's swing on the poor slaves, thus he repeated this movement several times to satisfy his arrogance but with less intensity than the first time:  
"Did you find her?"

None of the maids had the audacity to look at him not to mention to speak.

"When was the last time you have seen her?"

All the stares shifted to the last maid in the row, even the butler walked toward her before he stopped, she murmured as if she was confessing:

"She had a duty to take care of Mr. Hendrickson's quarter…"

The head of menservants glares pressed her to continue.

"It was the last time I have seen her, we have searched the entire manor except for Mr. Hendrickson's quarter…"

"Why is that…"

"He ordered us to not disturb him."

Seaben swung the baton in the air as he screamed:

"In the whole world, I am the only one who can give you orders. Not even the Count himself can interfere with my orders."

The terrified maid fell on her knees and shrank her body in dread. She knew how much the head of menservants hates Mr. Hendrickson.

Actually, everyone who worked here learned about this profound hate, however, they never learned what ignited it.

From their point of view, it was always the butler who contrived the conflicts. And if it wasn't for the protection the Count offered to Mr. Hendrickson, their boss has- maybe- killed Mr. Hendrickson long ago.

Yet for them, Mr. Hendrickson was as gracious as their beloved lord, as polite as a wounded fairy tale king. He never showed a lack of manners or used vulgar words, no matter how much the butler provoked him. They all have a mutual understanding of why their lord favors and respect him to this high extent.

And they were ever jealous of his closest maid Be-an and envied her position. They actually fought each day between themselves to be in his service. Hence, they never wished to disturb his rest or step on his request.

Still, orders are orders. They never cared about whom you respect or care. This was the fact every maid wished that she learned about before she entered the manor and sign the pact of slavery.

"Check Hendrickson quarter and report to me," Seaben ordered, then stormed out like a savage beast, leaving the six remaining maids arguing between themselves; which one of them is going to disturb Mr. Hendrickson rest.

The butler's mind was occupied by a lot of things, so he didn't notice the two pairs of pale yellow eyes following his movements when he passed close to the entrance of the main hall.

With conspicuous leisure, Akila strolled the area, inspecting the decor. She seemed impressed by the collection of the ceramic tea set and earthenware that were beautifully displayed through the main hall.

¨ This is absolutely out of Nicolai taste. ¨ She echoed inside her mind. While her gaze chased after the hirsute tall man, who awkwardly wore the black uniform that didn't suit him at all. Playing the role of an aristocratic butler wasn't a good fit for a dealer in grapheme lore. He looked so painfully fake, and out of place, in her humble opinion.

Once Seaben eyes noticed her presence, she bestowed on him an ambiguous sneer that delivered a frigid meaning. He instantly understood it. As a result, he stopped and hastily retreated, adopting the longer path to his office without giving a formal greeting. After being assured that he had reached a safe distance, far from that beast oversight. Seaben paused, catching his breath And mopping the dribble of sweat that moistens his hair.

The Cocrotta's Esere presence indicates the presence of his old master "Lord Shiva" the Destroyer. He must be, outside, flying all over the barrier, eagerly waiting for its decadence.

With tired strides and slow puffs, Seaben had miraculously arrived at his office. He sat behind his desk, calming his trembling limbs over him, tightly locked the door. When the wave of fear had left his limbs, he brought out a small box, securely concealed in bookshelf stationed right to his desk, it was made from the beech wood and have a splendid pattern. In its middle, there was a beautiful ornament mimicked three white jasmines, under it, the two ¨ D ¨ characters and the number six were engraved in Latin.

He reached to his index finger, retrieving the ring that was hidden under the dense hair. After he placed it in a circular shaped slot, he rolled the ring inside the slot in the same direction of the clock's hands to open it.

Inside the wooden box, there was a small glass bottle that resembles a perfume container, half repleted, with a dense crimson liquid. And there was also a neatly folded piece of brown paper. When he unfolded it, it gave the slight impression of concealing an unpleasant secret. Aside from the Latin words that lined up to form the terms of the contract, there were two spots for signatures one of them was occupied while the other was still blank. There was also a three jasmine flower pendant and a small pouch.

Seaben examined the contract, he read and reread it numerous times. Each time he finished reviewing a set of Latin words, he plucks off a handful of hair from his face or the back of his hands. In the end, he raised the feather quill pen and projected it above the blank spot. A drop of black ink tinted the contract, slowly spreading to make a dark stain on the old brown paper.

An intense battle took place inside Seaben head; to sign or not to sign this contract. Eventually, he refined to write anything, Since he decided that there was the other tactic he has yet to try. Since working with the Count Francis Leal Di Montez granted him more freedom compared to the contract the Duchess of Di Nobilis offered to him.


	37. Chapter Thirty-seven : A way out of a prison

Before the butler finished returning the contract and locking the wooden box. He got startled by a light knocks on the firmly sealed entrance. Therefore, he hurried to hide the box in the drawer under his desk, then he proceeded to open the door.  
  
Seaben's orders were as clear as a full moon on a murky night. When he discovered the identity of the one who startled him. He furiously thought that he was going to punish her, especially if she came empty-handed and only to disturb his temporary seclusion.  
  
The complexion of the unfortunate maid darkened as she looked at her superior, despite she can't see his features, she instinctively learned about the bad mood he was dwelling in. She assured herself that she was going to work harder on her prayers if she survived this sinister day.  
  
He asked while he closed his hand behind his back and walked to his desk:  
"Did you find her?"  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
He turned to overlook her. The hair on his eyebrows moved up and down, giving the impression of disbelief. Then he followed: "Really!"  
"Yes, Sir."  
"Where?"  
"At Mr. Hendrickson quarters."  
  
He felt that there was something peculiar about it. He required a few minutes to mull the news all over his brain, then he jerked his head toward the maid and commented: "Bring her to the annexed hall."  
  
***  
  
No matter where the head of maidservants looked, it was the lost seven maids whom she didn't return after completing her task. But there was something wrong about her, she completely appeared out of place, as if it was the first time she had seen her master. Yet, he asked again, just for the sake to deny or confirm his doubts: "What happened?"  
  
The trembling little girl on the ground cried while drops of tiny tears refused to leave the corner of her eyes. She murmured in brittle tone: " Where am I?… Who are you? ¨  
After this reply, Seaben doubts have been confirmed, Nicolai Hendrickson came to be confident after the Crocotta arrival, he is going on the offensive. And this was his straight-forward message that he wanted to deliver by tempering with those slaves as if he was telling him: "Don't get full of yourself just because I am losing my sight. ¨.  
  
A warning flag being raised in Seaben's brain, from now on he should expect a counterattack to all his charges against Nicolai.  
  
  
The butler snatched a deep breath, then he proceeded to leave the annexed hall, the other maid whom she accompanied him asked ahead of his departure:  
  
¨ What should I do Sir? ¨. And The butler answered her without looking back: "Return her to her family."  
  
While setting his hands behind his back, he instantly reached his office. Managing the long path to avoid the grand hall. And when he got there, he searched his bookshelf for the contract portfolio of the manor's workers. After skimming through it, he withdrew one of the papers and returned the portfolio back to its place.  
  
The paper that he just isolated was a contract approved under the name of ¨Cellia¨. He rolled the paper producing a cone. Afterward, he used the fire of the lantern that decorated his office to burn it. The flame color shifted from vivid red to bone white, then to hazel cedar. Seaben observed as the paper on the contract turned completely to ash before he felt delighted.  
  
That's right, maybe the Crocottas are here, but their act of plainly stating the appalling condition of Hendrickson's eyesight meant that they are not fully giving him their full support. Seaben thought that he still had a chance to completely slaughter the man.  
  
Re-locking the door of his office again, he retrieved the wooden box from the drawer under his desk. He fastened it, employing the same complex method as before. Then he concealed it in a secret place inside the bookshelf.  
  
An hour passed like a minute, and the butler's never quite the isolation of his desk. Long sailing on the vast ocean of his thoughts, as he apathetically observed the contract between him and the Count. Off and on the long hair around his mouth moved to express the hesitation and other times to indicate resolution.  
  
Finally, when the clock's pendulum sang its terrible melody for the elapsed time, Seaben stood making the decisive choice.  
  
Despite the door of the count study-room was open, Seaben chose to tab on the door announcing his presence. The Count didn't raise his head from the object of his reading, not because he didn't hear his butler's tabs, neither he was disrespecting to his presence. Simply, it was because of the state of high concentration he dwelt in, for long hours now. However, he said in a low voice, not caring for the identity of the one who was bothering him: "Come in."  
  
Several minutes had passed, while Seaben stood near the Count's desk without motion. With growing interest, he observed the Count activities. And although he barely could read what was written in the documents due to the upside-down display and the constant shift of the papers, he could estimate the subject of those documents just from the behavior of his master.  
  
The butler gotten alarmed when the Count dropped the documents on the desk as he inhaled loudly, then he propped his chin on the palm of his hand, tilting his head while looking at the void.  
  
The silence continued, with each elapsing second, the air under the illusion of uncertainty became hotter and suffocating. Seaben thought about words to initiate the conversation with his current contractor. However, the words had betrayed him and flew away from his tongue leaving him speechless.  
  
Lately, Seaben has been truly disrespectful to his current contractor; the Count Di Montez. He didn't just raise his voice in his presence; he also talked back to him with an accent that stashed a tiny bit of scorn. No wonder the words betrayed him. With which face he is going to ask for a favor now?  
  
When Seaben stole a few glimpses of the Count's profile, he saw his crimson eyes that resembled two blood-colored drops stained a container full of white milk were glancing at him. They were devoid of any touch of anger or hate toward him. As if his master didn't hold any lingering feeling about the discord between the two of them, as if he didn't get offended by the disrespect of his butler. This is what always puzzled Seaben about this man and made him unable to understand him. How can someone who barely keeps his anger for a few hours, manage to hold a grudge that lasted for years? Then, he starts a long payback quest, risking not just his life to achieve the temporary satisfaction that came with revenge. Seaben would have understood if the Count was a grudge holder like him, but the latter wasn't.  
  
Why his current contractor is torturing himself? Why didn't he just kill Mr. Hendrickson and put an end to this ponderous prison of internal turmoil and be free?  
  
Seaben remembered when the Count approached him that day and told him that he was like him, betrayed by someone who he considered more than an ally, a friend, a close friend, that's why he completely understood his feelings.  
  
Seaben, at that time, thought that they have a mutual objective, but apparently he was mistaken.  
  
He wondered why some people love to torture themselves to this extent while the answer is coherent and right in front of their eyes, luminous as the midday summer sun. Why some people are afraid to free themselves from their own grudge and move on, it is so simple. Just erase the one who set you behind those invisible bars from the existence...  
  
This was Seaben's tactic to free his imprisoned soul from the dead weight of a grudge and hatred…


	38. Chapter Thirty-eight : A break from reality

"What is it?"  
The Count asked, forcing his butler to return from his mind trip to the present moment.  
"I am sorry for the distraction, Sir."  
  
The Count supported his body weight on his two palms, using the desk as a prop. Helping his legs to move his torso that got glued to the seat while he denied: "No, I truly needed some distraction. What is it? "  
  
"I am here to ask to form another contract between us."  
  
Seaben speech was direct, somehow shameless , and because the Count didn't expect this turn of events , his poker face couldn't hide the dazzle that took hold of his eyes for a brief moment. He was sure that the contract between them will come to an end with his decision to abandon the farm. And After that, there will not be any gains or benefits that tight this greedy creature to him anymore.  
  
What he wants now? The Count wondered.  
  
He left his body surrender to the force of attraction that the seat was emitting, just a few moments after he broke away from it. Then he gave his full focus to what his soon to be his former contractor to say:  
  
" This time , it will be different ," Seaben elucidated , " this contract will be a temporal rather than spatial … as it was in our first contract. "  
  
"Temporal? Like in when should it end? " The Count's voice gave the impression of being interested in the proposal, thus gave Seaben a new restock for his near lost self-confidence:  
  
"A sufficient period, like until you get to Lundein."  
The Count pinched his lips together while tapping with his index finger on his knee, then he looked at Seaben before he asked: "What do you want in exchange?"  
  
"The life of Hendrickson."  
What a greedy bastard this creature is. Francis thought; he didn't know how he could hold himself to shout at him: "You know that Hendrickson's life and death are and will always be, only in my hands, and this matter is a closed case."  
  
Seaben already had foreseen the Count firm refusal. He noticed that in any business that concerned the Count 's ex-friend 's life or death , the Count always applies an underneath or straight forward resistance against anything powerful enough to threaten Hendrickson 's life .   
  
Unfortunately, Seaben actually noticed this rather late, and recently enlightened that his pursuit after Hendrickson is hopeless as long as the Count is present. Thus, he required a divergence, a way to shift the Count's attention far from his own real agenda.  
Based on what has Seaben experienced and despite the Count's passive attitude, he must not repeat his mistake and underestimate this man.  
  
He felt that this was his last chance to strike: "Then, I want the girl in the coffin."  
  
Impossible! That's what Seaben had perceived from the momentary hidden change on the Count's face that lasted barely a wink of an eye.  
  
It was exactly what he wanted. Though, he felt a bit of disappointment because of the calm and flexible answer of the Count:  
  
"Give me some time to think about it."  
  
It only confirmed yet once more to Seaben the concealed dangerousness and the dull facade of the Count. And once again he sensed the tentacles of anxiety, fear climbing up over his feet.  
The Count surly is not the simple person he imagined him to be when he approached him that day , he wasn't the hopeless person who had signed an unbalanced deal with him .   
  
If the Count doesn't make another deal with him, Seaben will find himself obliged to sign the deal the Duchess of Di Nobilis had presented to him.  
  
Francis returned his focus to the papers on his desk, but not for the purpose to read it. He was just searching for a distraction to avoid looking directly at the profile of his butler in a final attempt to keep his cool. He was biting the corner of his lip when a tiny red line got licked away by his tongue. From where this Chimera got the boldness to ask for such a thing?  
  
Francis wondered how he succeeded to restrain himself and didn't drain this vulgar bastard from the existence. This obscene creature really had forgotten his place. It seemed that what have Nicolai said about his greedy nature was true.  
  
Back then, the Count didn't believe in Nicolai words, he thought of it as one of the many games that spin between those two. He just proved to himself that he is really a bad judge of character.  
  
When the head of the maidservant excused himself, the Count tried to distract his agitated mood by focusing on truly rereading the conditions that were sent by the Crocotta clan … It was only a few counted days that separated their meeting to start the actual negotiation. The negotiation will resolve the current conflict without significant losses; hopefully…  
  
Retreating without entering a losing battle, reserving some gains and keeping his old chain of supply working , naturally, that' s what Francis is hoping for by taking this negotiation. Besides his present state didn't allow him to shoulder further damage more than he already had, as well as considering the latest report he had received from Lundein. They didn't bode well, and they required his personal presence to deal with them.  
  
After merely rereading handful lines, Francis pushed aside the papers, concealing them from his sight. He couldn't contain the fast relapse that his position had declined. Half of his estate in Lundein is now in Di Nobilis hands, His debts are increasing. He needs to seduce the Crocotta to let him keeps the supply chain from this farm no matter what...  
  
Nerves tired of thinking, He reached for the glass bottle and served himself a drink after a drink without a pause till he couldn't hear the raucous dance of the sullen thoughts inside his weary head.   
  
As soon as his head became a little bit dizzy, he finally felt a sort of fleeting ethereal peace. In this momentary heaven, an unopened bottle entered his visual field and gave him a funny idea. He thought why he didn't go and ask Nicolai to help him to empty it, together, like the same forgotten old days.  
  
He stupidly began to implement this idea, hardly steadying his posture and working his way to the music room. The red liquid inside the bottle was changing the level depending on the ever ending positions the bottle was held in. With his other hand, he carried two shinning glass, reflecting the projected dim light as if they were made from diamond.  
  
At the door, he guided his half-open eyes to inspect the lonely piano that beautified the center of the room. Seeking the outline of his soon to be his drinking companion.  
To his surprise - because he didn't find him-, he positioned what was in his hands on the flatness of the piano. Then, he advanced toward the window wondering about his whereabouts. After, he firstly searched for him under the piano and behind the curtain without a success. He thought that maybe the man was taking a stroll down on the farm.  
  
Across the glass of the window, Francis in his state of drunkenness, glimpsed the Crocotta young girl sitting on a big stone in the garden. She was reading a small notebook and as she turned the page, the expression on her face switched from neutral to a certain quality of frustration. It made Francis feel an extreme urge to learn what was written in the notebook. Then, he decided without a second thought that it must be love. She must be reading letterers about love. Yes, nothing can change a young woman's mood as fast as love does.  
  
The Frustration in Kanari face turned to fear, the kind of fear that clobbered the children face when they know that they have committed something their parent won't much appreciate.   
  
She quickly shut her notebook and sat on it. Next, she made a catatonic smile in the direction of the road that led to the main house.  
  



	39. Chapter Thirty-nine : A high state of exhilaration

Francis tracked the sight-line of Kanari, while his heart pumped to know what could have scared her. His lips formed a wide curve against his will, as he watched the young girl's nervousness grew with each approaching step from someone he couldn't see, but he could feel his presence.

He watched as the stress consumed the young girl to the point that she shifted her eyes away, left and right, to avoid looking directly at the approaching individual.

Francis' curiosity got the better of him and decided to stay till he finds out the person who could generate all these rich facial expressions from a young girl.

His eyes smiled when he caught the glimpse of a black fabric toyed by the breeze, then followed by long black hair. Thus, his entertained face turned serious at the notion that he was wrong about whom he was expecting.

When Lady Akila profile emerged and landed on his purview, the Count closed his eyes and mumbled to himself in a way to validate his judgment: ¨ It must be love, it must be the endless battles between the infatuated young girls and their delusional mothers about whom they should or shouldn't fall in love with. ¨ and when he opened his eyes to the scene, he got stabbed by the pair of pale yellow eyes glaring in his direction. Apparently, Lady Akila sensed the presence of someone spying on them.

In swift intuitive reaction, Francis pulled away from the window while commenting in shock about her incredible, keen senses. He stood looking back at the frame of the window and felt a strong need to close its curtains. But, by doing, so he will only prove her right.

This moment was when his mind returned from the short recess, he badly needed, to the reality. He remembered that he is far from his stronghold, alone in distant lands, surrounded by flesh-eating monsters who like to take the shape of a harmless, docile human, for the sake of amusement and deceit. And his only allies are a demon Chimera who will never do something for free and an unfaithful thought to be a friend whom he has tormented for those few past months. Furthermore, Lundein's news about his shares being taken by the Di Nobilis isn't helping his mood.

Francis took a deep breath and wanted to empty not just one bottle. In his state of stupor, he heard an annoying voice coming from the entrance: ¨ No, not this perfectly carved art piece of two hundred years ¨.  
The Count observed the nearly empty bottle and the wine-glass on the cover of the grand piano. Then, instantly understood Nicolai complain. However, he didn't say anything, his thoughts were still crammed by the monster outside and on how he is going to smooth his present grim situation, knowing that the protective barrier expiration day is approaching.

After he took off the bottle and the glass in his hands, Nicolai wondered about the silent disposition the Count had adopted. He checked the bottle in his hand by bringing it closer, near his face, confirming what the Count was drinking. And Nicolai knew exactly when Francis enjoys getting himself lost in the unconscious state of insobriety. It's certainly not for pleasure.

He said provoking him: "Is that mean that I can use your tea sets collection to have a drink? ". This question was also to evaluate the degree of the Count drunkenness, if Nicolai was a bit lucky he may demand more.

When Nicolai didn't get a harsh reproof, he was ready to formulate other questions, other deep questions. However, he was a little taken aback as he saw the Count's eyes preoccupied with the window frame in a trance. Curious about it, he immediately observed the frame for any peculiar things, the sash, curtains, even the floor below. As soon as he looked at the opened part, the light coming in, hurt his eyes and numbed his skin, hence, he proceeded to close the curtains.

" Wait!…"

Nicolai was startled…

"Keep it overt."

Before Nicolai got his chance to retreat, he briefly outlined two black figures in the garden. Then he purposely commented:

"It seems that your dear guests act as if they own the house."

Then he watched as the Count took the bottle and filled one of the glass before he offered it to him, He accepted it automatically because his head was searching for an explanation about the Count strange attitude. Was it the effect of the drink?

¨ Isn't this their territory in the first place?. ¨The Count noted before, he emptied what was left in the bottle, in one go. Meanwhile, Nicolai brought the glass next to his nose to smell the strong alcoholic fragrance. It was mixed with the metallic iron odor. He twisted the corner of his mouth in displeasure then responded:  
" Do you really wish to return the Farm to the Crocotta's clan without any fight? "

The Count balanced the bottle on the floor before he declared. His voice was distracted as if he was straightening himself from a certain fall: "Didn't I tell you from the start?... You didn't believe me?... That so heartless…" Then he kicked the bottle with his foot, the kick wasn't powerful, yet sufficient to drop the bottles on the floor and break it. Shattered glass spread all over the place.

Nicolai remembered the last conversation he had with Francis, and how the latter strove with outermost carefulness to keep his true objective ambiguous… And now, the Count is being awfully honest. Sometimes the effects of the alcoholic drinks on certain people are magical.

But in Nicolai's eye, there was a lost loop on all this too good to be a true situation, he wondered what made Francis wasted carelessly like this? He looked at the window and attributed the reason to not just the effect of the alcohol. Maybe Akila finally bared her teeth to the display. Did her forbearance sell out, and she wanted to take everything by force? Thus, he decided to fetch more answers from him:  
" Did something happen?"  
" You don't want to drink with me?" The count pointed to the full glass in Nicolai's hand.  
" My head is killing me."  
" This is another reason to drink."

" Francis… what's wrong? " Nicolai was puzzled, he knows that Francis won't get himself into this pitiful state of drunkenness unless he was absolutely desperate. And he sincerely needed to stop thinking about what caused him to enter this state. But, if he wished to let go of the farm without a fight, there was no reason for him to get… drunk. Except, the cause, the real cause behind his distress wasn't the farm… thus he pestered more: " What's wrong?"

Francis's eyes were half-open, ready to enter into a deep sleep. He supported his weight on the Piano and said while watching Nicolai grimace:

" Did you know, Seaben gave me a visit a while ago. He proposed a tempting offer."

" Another Deal?" Nicolai's voice was cold.

" Yes, exactly, since our first deal will end with the handover of the farm to the Crocotta… in the next few days."

It was the first time Nicolai has heard about the content of the deal, yet he chose to stay silent and wait.

" He offered me another deal… did you know what he has demanded in return?"

" What did he demand? "  
The Count burst with a laugh, he hardly could make his voice intelligible: ¨ y… your… life, he wants your life.¨ the Count tried to hold his laughter without success… after the passage of this hysteric wave of laughing he resumed:

"He really hates you, what did you do to him so that he could hold all this grudge against you…" Francis tried to collect himself before he continued:  
"I won't lie, watching the cold fight between the two of you was truly entertaining. But I must confess, you were more dignified and subtle than him. If it wasn't for me… the balance..."

The count stopped when he didn't get the reaction he wanted from his old friend, the neutral expression made the Count rifled, therefor he asked provoking:  
"Who was going to be the winner between the two of you, if it weren't for my interference? "  
¨Me.¨ Nicolai answered, drawing an end to this barren conversation.

After that, The drunk Count pursed his lips together without uttering another word. In a way that he appeared that he did agree with his ex-friend, but refuse to admit it openly.

In the few seconds, the music room sank in the isolation of the silence, Nicolai took the opportunity and tasted the crimson liquid from the glass, before he breached this quietness with a question:  
"Did you accept?"  
" ... "  
"Did you accept his proposal?"  
" Oh!… Yes, I did."


	40. Chapter Forty : A firm resolution

Francis observed Nicolai's visage, gasping in anticipation. However, for his disappointment, there was no traceable satisfying reaction. The hint of dejection, agony, or remorse that he wished to uphold between the folds of this ever motionless face of his friend. Simply, it didn't even exist.

Walking on the shattered glass beneath his footwear, Francis left the room, not looking behind. Despite all, he felt partially gratified about the outcome of this talk. Because, in the end, he got the entertainment and the distraction he was looking for by coming here. And, now, is the time to return to reality.

  
Nicolai's eyes were following him, step by step. The steady pace and the firm footsteps made Nicolai doubt his earlier deduction about the Count's state of drunkenness. Maybe the Count wasn't drunk as he pretended to be.

Nicolai watched him leaning on the door's trim to support himself when he lost his balance.  
"I won't forgive you if you touch my tea sets collection," Francis shouted, his words were choppy, and gasps followed them. It was sudden, and it dumbfounded Nicolai. He couldn't decide whether the Count was really drunk or pretending to be. He looked at the glass in his hand and smelled it again. Then took another sip and said between his lips ¨ What is this? ¨

***  
The morning of the awaited day, when the bargain about the fate of the village and its residents set to be concluded, was here. Mr. Hendrickson decided to fight his severe headache and go to meet the Count before the start of the important meeting. He wanted to make an end to the misgivings that haunts him and confirm if his destiny was left in the hand of that hairy wicked magus. If it was so, then this must be his ultimate downfall.

After all these persisting battles, after all, this gives and takes, his mind is blank now, unable to think. Nothing left to fight with. He used everything he could. He is tired of this long, cold fights. But what he feared the most wasn't the death, he was more afraid of humiliation, torment, and pain.

He placed his hand open in front of his face, fingers stretched to block the light insinuated from the untidy curtains. The light was one of the factors that aggravate his headache. Then he leaned on the other hand to support his body, changing his posture to the seating position. This maneuver never ceased to be hard, since the injury to his right leg. And because the effort he used was enormous, he needed a few minutes to recover his lost energy. However, his stretched hand was kept pending to defend against insinuating light.

At last, he noticed the dryness in his mouth; it made his throat exfoliating. Made him graving something to soothe this intense thirst.  
Taking a pick from the gap between his fingers, he reached with his free hand to the nightstand near his bed and drained all the remnant liquid in the glass. Only by doing so, he felt a little better.

Yet, the light that invaded the room became stronger, the messier curtains were unable to halfheartedly obscure it any longer. But, for the inconvenience, he blamed himself. It was his fault. He was the one who had forgotten to close them last night.

Not long ago, this simple work that was handed to the maids lately became his daily routine. It has been since the affair of the missing maid that was under his service. What tough labor for a man with a painful physical disability and a severe intermittent headache.  
Ah, Seaben is striking again, a realization came to Mr. Hendrickson the moment he entered his room and found it not as clean as he prefers it.

What did that butler want for this move?

Let him die from the dust and filth... Perhaps this will work this time...

The Butler really not letting him catch any breath. This time he has changed his approach and decided to make Nicolai's life harder him?

What an enormous improvement... He is being very impassioned for a predator who cornered his prey?

After a strain of battle, Mr. Hendrickson finally got himself dressed. In top-notch elegance, he gave his look that flawless image, full of prestige and reliance. Whoever will see him, won't believe that he was the same person who had woken up an hour ago.

Crossing a corridor after another while finding his way to the Count's study room, he remarked the irksome weird quietness that was out of usual. He stopped and glanced behind him. After, he shifted his eyes left and right. He was almost sure about some kind of upcoming physical attack to hit him from somewhere. Was it an additional amusing game from his favorite playmate?

The pulsation from his headache caused him to lose his balance, luckily his cane supported him and preserved his lost equilibrium. When the intolerable pain lessened, he abandoned his interest to meet the Count. Therefore, he drew back to his chamber.  
What if he knows about Francis' true choice, so this will change his current situation?  
His life will stay under their mercy until he breaks the siege that surrounded his freedom. And there was no argument on which the loose point he should start with. He must eliminate the hairy magus, and he must eliminate him sooner rather than later.

He thought about how he was going to accomplish this resolution, all the way to his quarters, again and again. Since he doesn't have time to wait for his long-term plan to bear its fruits. He needed to strike now more than ever.  
For an instant, as he opened the door to his chamber, the idea of using his foresight one last time to locate the perfect tool seemed so tempting and the best logical solution. Even with his declining vision, the severe headache, he doesn't have another method. His foresight was his only as well as the last recourse.

Choosing a comfortable seat, he closed his eyes, aiming to regain some of his extinct calmness and straight his deviated concentration.  
As soon as he reopened them, his visual acuity rapidly decreased to eventually change into a blur as if he was looking through a thin, placid waterfall.  
The white part of his eye was heavily congested, harshly burning. His head felt like splitting. But his determination ought all his physical suffering.

Once his iris begun to split like a cell in the process of reproduction, a fine string of red tears drips slowly as his eyelids washed it out before they closed up anew.

When his eyelids moved a second time, two formed irises were clearly visible. One in the center while the other settled in the outer corner of each eye, and was slightly smaller than the first. When Nicolai blinked a few times the blurry images, he was seeing begun to sharpen. A diverse scenery appeared before him. They moved quickly, changing the point of view in the blink of an eye like shaky footage. At first, they were confused as the images were sometimes of trees, sky... And other times were of buildings, people, then corridors and stairs... After that, the incoherent movement stopped and everything became clear.

One blink, then Nicolai saw the window of his chamber in front of him, another blink, and his sight traveled through the manor exploring the corridors and chambers of the whole main house, not leaving a single nook without inspection. However, the movement halted at the view of an unfamiliar face in one of the guest chambers.

Nicolai noticed two young individuals talking, precisely one was talking as if she was giving a presentation and the other one was listening. The white hair in the eyebrow of the second young individual startled Nicolai and made him lose his concentration. As a result, the image became fuzzy. After he recovered his coolness and returned the focus to the second person with the half-white eyebrow… He wondered in disbelieve.  
"Isn't, this Savannah?"  
"Is this Savannah, The firstborn child of Lady Akila and one of the famous black stars of the Cocrotta's clan."  
"What's going on, did they find a weak spot and used it to cross the barrier without causing an alert?…"

  
The pain in his head and around his eyes throbbed. Hence he decided to investigate this matter later and focus on searching on his aim.  
The blood oozed from his eyes as the image in his foresight changed to see outside the house.  
Akila was in the garden smelling an early spring flower as the wind played with her hair and clothes. Her face was inconceivable.  
Francis in the terrace using the papers as a shield from the sunlight, his hand holding the papers and the part of his face that wasn't covered by the shadow were softly cracked like an arid soil.

Outside the manor, Nicolai spotted a big gathering of the residents in front of the main tavern…


	41. Chapter Forty-one :  A lost fragment of puzzle

In the middle of the mongrels big gathering, near the tavern primary entrance, Nicolai spotted two interesting persons. The first one had an immense body, Nicolai nodded at himself satisfied and felt relieved that the Aractanthrope was still trapped inside the village. Maybe he will find a time to deal with him later, or he could use his illegal presence in this turf.

The second person, who resided in his consideration, was halted near the gate, accompanied by one maid while the other maids were scattered between the groups of angry protesting mongrels working to calm them.

On one side, several covered dead bodies were lying on the soil, wrapped with white linen. Around them, traces of blood scattered like a waterwheel after heavy rain. Crying women and children all over the place. Even when he couldn't hear their sad weeping, he perceived the anguish from their dejected faces.

Nicolai also saw an angry, out-of-control man, holding farm instruments as a battle tool. Their eyes painted with red and their noses streamed scorching air.

It was complete chaos.

The fear that had accumulated inside the heart of the residents in those last months, the uncertainty, the fickle courage was now all exploding at once.

Something is going on. Something must have destroyed the wall of hesitation and fears, ignited the flames inside those hopeless creatures, so they could go out through the tunnel of silence.

Nicolai's breath chopped off as a wave of pain circulated through his body, rendering him senseless as an electrocuted person. This wave was brutal and intense to the point that made him fell on his back.

He clutched at the cover of his bed with his remaining forces and coerced his eyes open for a few seconds. This time the blood came not just from the eyes but also from his nose. His chest grew heavy and buggy and his vision only showed an abstract red image.

While the effect of the pain wave began to decrease, he used the back of his left hand to wipe the poured blood. Next, he concentrated on his weak breath, trying to make it regular.

His muscles failed him, yet again when he attempted to move his body to rest on his left side, he was unsuccessful, thus he surrendered to reality. Unable to raise his eyelids. He reclined in there, tired, hopeless, not even able to speak and answer the door.

Knock…. Knock.

The sound that came from the door was rhythmic. It stopped for a few seconds, then returned to be louder before the door was opened…

Despite Nicolai's tiredness, his lips formed a faint curve of satisfaction.

Silent steps entered and worked its way through until it stopped near the bed.

A nostalgic voice said: "You look awful."

"You smell awful," Nicolai replied, although his voice was hardly audible.

"I have a legitimate reason to smell like rotten meat."

"Me too, I have a myriad of reasons to look half dead."

****

Kanari brushed her hair and tied it in a loose plait braid, then brought the end of the braid to rest on her shoulder.

She gave herself a last look in the mirror, her eyebrows were lowered concealing her pale yellow eyes to a certain degree. She nodded, pleased with the outcome before she proceeded to collect the documents.

When she pushed the door open, she saw her mother walking right towards her direction signaling to her asking if she was ready, and kanari returned the signal with a firm, serious head bow that she was ready.

When they marched downstairs, Akila hissed in her daughter's ear asking, "Where did Savannah go?"

Like a block of melted ice, the seriousness and determination that reflected on Kanari face a moment ago vanished. And her mind got blink… She sought a quick lie to save herself: "She is just taking a stroll… You knew how much she can get bored inside four walls.

"She better keeps a low profile and not cause any troubles."

"Of course, she is not that stupid."

kanari felt a pressing need to change the subject and finally found herself a striking subject: "Mother, don't you think that the house is somehow very empty?"

It was a simple remark, but when the word left her lips, her demeanor completely converted to be extra cautious. She asked a second time, "Ma… Something going on?"

Akila paused and declared: "Yes, there is some kind of uproar in the village."

"The Chimera?"

Akila didn't answer but resumed her march toward the main hall. Kanari followed her urgently demanding clarification: "Ma…. Do you think this is a mere coincidence?"

"Of course not, dear, there is no such thing called coincidence in the world."

"Then what is going on, this is not included in the contract. Could it be planned from the start?"

kanari voice was loud, and only when they arrived at the entrance of the main hall she rectified her mistake.

The Count Francis Leal Di Montez with his crimson aura was inside waiting, kanari felt that it was strange that he was alone by himself. She wondered about the whereabouts of that chimera butler who always stood behind him.

She looked at her mother to meet her eyes, then looked back at the Count.

In that sudden flash of perception, at last, Kanari, finally realized what was going on.

She glanced at her mother to see her maternal smile overrun her firm visage. And right then she remembered the cryptic advice that her mother was trying to give her whenever possible.

Before Akila walked inside she asked her beloved daughter "Did you get a glimpse of the big picture now?"

"Yes, ... No, I am still confused?"

"Don't lose your composure… remember your ultimate objective, if you lose sight of it return a few steps back and rethink what was going on."

Giving her last words, Akila advanced, approaching the Count's position while kanari stood there reflecting, and when she felt confident enough, she followed behind her.

The two of them stood side by side in front of the Count. They all sat following the etiquette of the courtesy, and only then, Francis said directing his speech to Lady Akila: "My lady I believe that you understand…"

Akila flagged her hand, stopping him as she directed him toward her daughter and asked him to address his speech to her while she added clarifying: "Actually, I am but a chaperon. The real negotiator is Kanari Crocotta, If you have any concerns, please forward them to her."

Francis observed the young lady in confusion, he remembered the scene in the garden and said to himself "that's what was going on… It seems that I was courting the wrong lady. Another clap for you, Hendrickson." then he gave the young lady in front of him a serious look.

Kanari never shield her eyes away, the rhythm of her breath was calm, she didn't even glimpse at her mother for confirmation, yet her head was boiling from what she has reflected on a few minutes ago.

She repeated over and over to validate her standing: The Count has been just a side bystander. He was never the real invader of their farm. The actual person who was controlling, managing the farm was the hairy chimera, the grapheme lore dealer, the ex-servant of Lord Shiva. The Count must be one of his contractors, perhaps the major contractor. But why the Count accepted to work with the Crocotta and drop his contract with the magus?

Kanari eyes fell on the documents in front of her eyes and read the name of Mr. Hendrickson. She wondered why this man's name appears whenever there was some kind of conflict of interest. Although she has yet to find the last puzzle piece.

The magus wanted the chimera farm and made a contract with the crimson lord, so he could use his power in return for what?

Kanari didn't understand the real benefits the Count will get with his contract with the chimera magus. But, from what she had concluded, this must be the primary deal between them.

However, the crimson lord's intention was something else, he knew that he won't get this farm without a fight with its owner - the Crocotta -, thereby he pretended to comply with the magus intention and used him. So, when the Crocotta arrives, the Count will drop his contract with the magus, leave him to his doomed fate and make a second contract with the Crocotta.

In summary, the Count was planning this from the start; he was aiming to take only Mr. Hendrickson's share of this farm. His contract with the magus was but a temporary one.

Kanari glimpsed at the aesthetic of the hall as she recalled her mother's words about the Count's true nature, her mother was right, the Count is not a mere hopeless dreamer; he is dangerous and cunning.

Kanari was a bit confused about her deduction, as much as it was the most logical conclusion she gets to. She still didn't understand the Count's real motivation. She heard him address Mr. Hendrickson as if they were friends, close friends... Then why he is trying to snatch his share?

Whatever, Kanari scratched her head and decided to concentrate on her mission...

All the documents placed on the table were exchanged between the two parties. Each side revised carefully the terms and conditions. Then, before they signed the contract, Francis dropped a question: "There is no guarantee of my personal safety after I get out of your territory?" It was cheese in the trap, hence he tried to hide his aim by adding: "I mean who knows when an unsatisfied member of the clan will follow or send someone after my life…"

"My lord, your death isn't our objective and it will have no gain that benefits us. We just want to retrieve what belonged to us without casualties, and we are hoping to preserve the already fragile balance that keeps our two species."


	42. Chapter Forty-two : A domineering situation

Akila's eyes were inattentive, jumping from spot to spot, sometimes on the ceiling and other times on the walls. Her mind seemed for an observer to be occupied by nothingness, yet she has closely listened to the present conversation...

In those few passing seconds of silence, for Akila's mind, they seemed endless. She took her time wandering about the farm current situation, about the best solution she needed to take if she didn't get what she wanted at the end of this negotiation...

She needed to be patient as long as her coolness dry up; she was afraid that she was going to use her current position of power and not just threaten the Count, maybe she would end up starting a battle and destroying this precious farm.

Isn't avoiding the distraction of the farm as much as she could, was one of the biggest reasons that she started this negotiation.

And if the Count was really sincere about his request for why he is making this hard by insinuating the chaos between the Chimera...

Akila decided to not rush matter and accuse the Count of being behind this confusion on the farm. She needed to be patient and not act like her younger self.

Back then in her youth, without much experience, she frequently fell a victim for this superficial display of power. She gets paranoid and loses sight of that fine line that separates her reality, the position she holds, and the power she thinks she can master. This was always her own crucial mistake that she always worked on to correct it, back then and even now.

To her surprise, when canary took the stand for the negotiation, Akila didn't expect her to follow her advice.

How shameful if she urged and advised Kanari to be discreet, polite, and humble in her interaction with others, especially with her enemies, to never precipitate and handle everything with physical or verbal force? While she herself acts contrary to her own advice.

kanari was different from Savannah. She is indecisive, full of self-doubt, and certainly very emotional in the decisions she made. But aren't most of living being born like this, only through learning and experience can they develop to be a better version of themselves...

Soft on the outside yet brutal, savage on the inside.

This is the first and most important principle that Akila worked hard to carve deep down in the soul of her dear children. How dare she call herself an excellent mother if she didn't work with her on the advice?

Slowly those seconds followed by and the pause finished when Kanari reply finally came up: "As we have motioned before, we need you to accept all the conditions if you want to be an associate..."

" I understand that, but, how I am going to replace the other associate, I mean how you are going to get rid of him and manage the transfer smoothly, I am talking about the legal part. After all, we need his signature in the contract"

" That's why we asked you to open the barrier again for our second partner, he is the one who is tasked with handling this kind of matter. "

Francis moved his eyes between the two women, It was as he predicted, either he willfully agreed to their conditions or he will get out with nothing. He glanced at the papers in front of him, the papers he read and reread a million times, then he said:

" And the right of distribution to the human's land?"

" Since it was under Mr. Hendrickson management, then it will be yours according to the terms of the original contract, I believe I have sent you a copy."

Akila was listening, with narrowed- eyes, wondering where the Count wants to go with these questions.

"Truthfully, I want to redistribute the goods to Lundien, I hope that doesn't violate your terms..."

"Mmm," Kanari thought before she answered, "No, as long as you use the humans land as a first destination the redistribution after this will be up to your preferences." after she gave her answer only then she comprehended what he sought after...

Akila, also, for a second, the corner of her mouth twisted in displeasure, this man trying to have an assurance of what he was getting after all the humans land was always used when some unimportant conflicts between rivals must be avoided.

" There is another thing I want to add." Francis continued, pretending to be oblivious I wish to meet the second party before I leave."

"Are you saying that sign the deal with us, the Crocotta is not enough for you?" Kanari was extremely irritated and failed to contain herself.

"I just want to make an acquaintance with him, I have heard a lot of things about his person, mostly rumors."

Francis' tone wasn't serious compared to the first remark he had made earlier, he seemed like he was enjoying this after he made the young lady furious

Akila stole a side glimpse of her daughter as she pretended to pour some water in the glass. She barely held herself from interfering. The Count's soft attack was like a bombing on an amateur. How kanari is going to respond without revealing so much of her inner feelings.

" This is not a celebration to make an acquaintance, and don't act like you are equal, you are just going to be an operator, we are going to give you Mr. Hendrickson shared and some of his terms of reference but not his position. I can just refuse this whole contract and charge you of an illegal presence in our territories, or I can... " Finally Kanari stopped herself from blurting the other inappropriate words.

Lady Akila shocked in the water. She was swallowing, but she controlled her reaction to not cause a noticeable scene. While she was condoning kanari choice of words.

This wasn't the best answer, revealing your emotional state is just like revealing critical information.

Akila felt a flash sting in her ears as she listened to her daughter's direct words.

Revealing an emotional state during a negotiation after receiving a hidden threat is truly a grave error with two weighty compositions.

The first one was losing the slight breath of trust that holds two opposing parties to talk and sit at the same table, the second one. She confirmed the other side doubts.

Akila decided that she finally needs to interfere.

****

Outside, the clash of sticks with the earth saturated the air with dust. The sound of metal hitting walls accompanying the song that were chanted for the sake of the departed.

Afterward, the chant became Screams and shouts that condemn the responsible for those unjustified murders. They were discreetly directed to the incompetence of their lord. The Lord Whom they believed to be their protector, their savior whom they had promised their life and death…

He failed them…

He let them die...

The anger of the villagers grew to be more and more unrestrained. Despite the butler and the maids of the manor eminence efforts to control and calm them.

Savannah stood on top of one of the tallest roofs. Carefully trying not to be too far away or too close. Just choosing the optimal distance to oversee the state of affairs and the reasons behind this big commotion. After one glance, she had to admit. It was quite a sight to behold as if it was coming straight out of a history book.

It was futile in Savannah's view, meaningless, as the struggle of a small fly tangled in the adhesive web of a hungry spider. But there was something in it, something strange made it oddly enchanting and satisfying, this tough fight for survival. It showed what a length a living being can go to give their lives meaning.

She sat on the rooftop, leaning her back on the wall of the chimney and dropping her head in her palm, thinking while enjoying this rare glorious movement of a deprived forlorn nation in their hopeless struggle for life.

Moving her pale yellow eyes to scan the site as quickly as possible, she could. Because forming a theory about why and what was happening was her priority.

After she absorbed and assessed the present information she retrieved from her observation; she started to sew the thread between the separated dots…

The place, the time, they were both in correlation with the unforeseen events of that night when that damn Amarok attacked the main tavern.

She couldn't think of another explanation that fit the current situation.

She bit her lower lip as her dark almond-shaped pupil narrowed while working her best to spot the kerit.

She made a deal with that man… And by all means; she was aware of the possibility of him being a card from another player. Yet she couldn’t contain herself and chose to take the risk to measure the extent of his sincerity.

The taste of blood stained the inside of her mouth when she licked the small cut on her lower lip.

The kerit wasn't hard to spot, although the fierce havoc. His enormous frame and tall stature rendered him unbelievably distinct. Every time she glimpsed his face, his words echoed in her mind:

"He is not the same person…"

What this Kerit knew about the albino to declare with such confidence…

Little by little, the chaos started to subside, and the echoes of the noise began to calm down. The right moment she was waiting for had arrived, not a complete disorder neither a total peacefulness. The perfect condition so she could advance.

Her claws scratched the wall of the chimney that she leaned on to support her weight. And before she jumped to the next roof, she put on the flying goggles that were dangling around her neck. She confirmed that she can only see a blurry image of a moving corpse. She took them off while cursing “that fraudulent jerk, he sold me a defective one”

Then, she looked back at her next destination with narrowed, determined eyes. Finally, she is going to find out if the kerit was keeping his side of their deal or someone saw the bloody mess the Amarok had created before they have cleaned it.

She took a deep breath and murmured to herself complaining: “what I am going to do now, either way, this complete mess is all because of me”.


	43. Chapter Forty-three : A thin string of denial

"Well, my congratulations," Rokah said as he walked toward the window and lifted its curtains a bit, so he could peep through them," It is your winning. But first tell me, What do you want from me, in exchange."

He heard Mr. Hendrickson from behind still half prone on the bed demanding: "Don't open it, at the moment, I am very sensitive to the sunlight."

Rokah was still peeping, and when he felt it was safe, he retreated, taking a glance at the exhausted man on the bed before he responded: "Light sensitivity..." He paused for a moment then he elaborated: "When we first met, I thought that you suffer from myopia. But I was wrong, your condition is way more complicated than simple myopia."

Nicolai switched to the sitting position, his eyes were close and the stigma of bleeding made a dim red trail on his cheeks. His query about the source that informed the Crocotta fierce lady about his supposed to be his secret condition was answered. He also confirmed that when this person presented himself as a doctor, it wasn't just for disguise; he was a proper doctor.

Nicolai exalted, calming himself before he asked: "Is it incurable?"

"Depends on the underlying reason."

A moment of silence passed before anyone said a thing, Rokah used the desk to support his weight, then said after the gaudy silence: "I don't believe that you lured me here for a medical examination?"

Mr. Hendrickson opened his eyes but refined to look directly at his guest. His vision was blurred with a touch of redness… "Yes, actually..." his lips curve slightly, "I want you to kill someone."

Rokah didn't respond.

" As I have promised you before, I will tell you the reason behind the encouragement of inbreeding in this village, and it is up to you if you will accept my request."

Rokah said nothing again.

"This village isn't actually a simple village…. "

" I figured this up." Rokah finally said.

" I guess so..." and Nicolai, finally, moved his eyes to look at him. But he couldn't see more than the silhouette.

" Before we start talking, give me a reason why I should believe in what you are going to tell me…"

For Nicolai, these words that demanded assurance and this tone of voice that gave off the guise of fake confidence, it revealed the internal turmoil this person is facing at this moment.

Compared to their previous meeting and the talk that they have before, the doctor is now lost, adrift, filled with uncertainty and rage. Nicolai didn’t know if he felt pity for him or it was only simple curiosity. But this is another situation that confirmed to Nicolai again, his point of view about the truth, Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

" Why did you come?"

Rokah didn't answer, his eyes moved away, afraid to face the nearly blind man in front of him…

" I will tell you why…"

Nicolai closed one of his eyes and made an expression of pain, his head still feels like a watery sponge. Yet he forced himself and continued: "Because you don't believe in what the Crocotta's had and have told you... Anymore… right… ?"

"Because what they have told you and what you have seen and experienced was a blend of contradiction. "

As Nicolai was speaking, deep down, he was making assumptions because a person engraved beliefs won't simply change at this speed. There must be something that the doctor had witnessed and made the glass of uncertainty in his heart broke.

"I see, this is your plan… ..."

Finally, Rokah said. And Nicolai hushed in interest, he was unsure about what the doctor is going to say, but at the same time very excited to know.

"This is your plan from the start, I was wondering why you offered to answer one of my questions without a payment. I, finally, understand why?" Rokah paused to deduce Mr. Hendrickson's reaction and when he read the interest in his face he kept going.

"First, I thought this was a bait to lure me back here again, how short-sighted I was... Your true objective was to test my beliefs."

Nicolai couldn't hold himself, but to smile. Intelligence and finding the truth are two inseparable things. He responded, but this time his voice held a tone of cheerfulness:

" You can't blame me in this, weren't you, doing the same thing? Testing my values by purposely letting that maid, half unconscious, so she will witness our meeting..."

Nicolai paused, he wanted to examine to the great detail the look on Rokah's face, unfortunately, his eyes were more trying to picture a clear image. Thus, He struggled to stand and approached him. And when they were standing face to face with each other. Nicolai resumed as he stared at Rokah's face.

"All this suffering I am enduring, all this infelicity I am dwelling in is all because of you. "

Rokah seemed that he still yet to connect the dots, hence Nicolai accelerate the process by declaring: "You wanted to know if I was going to kill her afterward or not?... Right...?"

Finally, Rokah averted his eyes, and attempted to escape the pressure by looking away to the door, to the walls… Everywhere but to Mr. Hendrickson's eyes.

And the silence returned.

…

"She is dead." Rokah waited until Mr. Hendrickson has returned to sit on the bed before he declared.

This time, Rokah looked directly into his tired eyes. He watched him put his hand above his forehead, then slide it to cover his eyes as if he was in great pain.

It took Nicolai a few moments before he said: "Well, It wasn't me, and you know that. If you haven't, I would be already dead."

Rokah moved to see through the curtains for the second time, and asked while looking outside: "Then what is the reason behind the encouragement inbreeding?"

Everything depends on this answer…

That was Rokah's resolve and that was why he came here.

He was fed up with this game of falsehood and lies, thus he decided that Mr. Hendrickson's life or death depends on this answer.

If it doesn't persuade him…

If it doesn't satisfy him…

He will help Mr. Hendrickson, the black ghost, to finish off what he couldn't succeed to finish off in that stormy night.

Rokah will help him end all his physical and emotional suffering... Forever…

Isn’t this the noblest goal a doctor strove to accomplish.

"What do you think about the consequences of inbreeding?" Nicolai said, barely he could speak in intelligible voice, his eyes were hidden behind his palm. In an attempt to conceal his pain.

Nevertheless, Rokah responded ignoring this fact.

"Physical deformities, Incurable illness, fragility, short life span…"

"And…"

"…. "

"Mental disorders…" Nicolai forwarded after a second.

"Like stupidity, slow learning, low level of intelligence. Also, didn’t you notice the lack of ambitions."

Rokah suddenly appeared in his mind the image of Chewa, her ambition to leave this village. It was his trigger to the illumination, another important part of this complex puzzle.

"It is easier to control a society of dumb sheep, without ambitions, and they don't ask questions. Only wished to eat, sleep, and work." Nicolai explained.

"The barrier, why there is this barrier, isn't because they are trapped here."

"This barrier is not to trap them inside, the barrier was designed to keep out other creatures outside. And if someone of those creatures could trace past it, he will get trapped inside. For the sole purpose to protect this village from other competitors."

"I still don't understand what you are hinting at."

"It is not like you don't understand what I mean you are refusing to admit what you have already suspected. This not a village, ... This is a farm."

" A farm... Like in what ... A farm ..."

"Livestock." Nicolai interrupted because, for him, Rokah was unable to pronounce the right word.

" A livestock?, Why? There is plenty of livestock in the village and the mountains..."

Rokah's words were a failed attempt of denial to himself and Nicolai was observing in joy, as if he just ingested the pill that will relieve his pain. But that wasn't enough, so he explained: "For a Polymorph, a Chimera flesh can accelerate the regeneration ability dramatically, Also some of their internal organs have a few medical uses that you should be familiar with."

Rokah refused to look at Mr. Hendrickson, He bit the back of his bandaged hand. In vain efforts to pacify his rampant rage. He walked to the door, then returned to the desk. He wanted to destroy something so some of this anger would get out. Yet sadly he was entitled to not expose himself. He must endure this destroying force in silence.

Lady Savannah was lying, from the start.

All that talk about freedom and redemption was lies.

Rokah wondered as he stood in the middle of the room about Lady Savannah's future plan with him...

He was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, his senses were collapsing and losing the connection with reality. He didn’t feel his body anymore and his limbs failed him. It was a lie… everything was a lie. He knows from the start that his life or death is meaningless in this savage world, yet he chose to live on… however now… right now… everything is worthless.

Nicolai struggled to stand again, he approached Rokah placing his hand on the doctor's shoulder.

" You shouldn't be oppressed or discouraged, this is how the world works. The way life is set in motion. This is the truth, our reality. Since the beginning of time, The strong always prey on the weak."


	44. Chapter Forty-four : A tough expected outcome

In this endless sea of variation. Lies always dominate the surface and the truth always sinks into the depth, far from the light. And only a few people will search for the truth, fewer can find it, and those who can accept it are exceptional. That is why it is not wise for everybody to learn about the truth. Most people will have a happy, blissful life, living in lies and ignorance.

This extreme opinion about the truth and finding the truth, Nicolai has experienced it in all his existence, the weight of the torment, the futility of knowing. His heart ached with a bit of remorse.

His fingers stopped from knotting and adjusting the white ascot tie. In the end, he regretted his blank and direct approach. This direct exposure to the truth can freeze someone's will for life. How would Mr. Hendrickson use someone who has lost his will?

Maybe he should have revealed the truth behind those creatures' realities and the purpose of this village with a brief touch of optimism. He wished he had chosen a less depressive approach to convey it. But he just couldn't fight the blowing excitement his dead heart was pumping a moment ago.

What could be the choice of the albino doctor after this life-changing revelation?

Acceptance and forbearance… ignorance or full self-destruction?

Reaching for the doorknob, Nicolai couldn't contain his ecstasy, thirsty to uphold the doctor's next move...

The mirror reflected a twisted wide evil grin on a dark, unrecognizable face. Nicolai tried hard but failed to repress it. In the end, the mirror reflected a hand wrapped in a black successfully covering the wide grin.

******

In the main hall, Francis sat alone after the Crocotta ladies have left. He listened to the rhythm of their heart pumping as it disappeared with the sound of their steps. He glanced at the documents that were still scattered on the table in front of him. And felt an urge to pour himself a drink.

Taking a sip after a sip while laying leisurely, self-contained on the armchair, he thought about the chaos the mongrels are doing right now, searching for the reason behind it and wondering about the person who instigated it.

“Who could it be? Who will benefit from the disorder? Was it Seaben? Nicolai? Or the Crocotta's ladies?"

All three of them have a motive to ignite it. The benefits they could get depend on the outcome and certainly the outcome of chaos is hard to predict.

Francis took another sip, enjoying the stinging taste before the trail of his thoughts flew again. He fully understood what he was playing with when he decided to enter the game. While he thought of himself as a side player, a spectator who enjoys a good drama show and get by collecting the leftovers. It was very beneficial and less dangerous.

However, when he intentionally allowed the Crocotta clan to be a part of the play, the laws of the game have changed. The number of players has increased, and it became dangerous.

Sadly, he had no choice; it was a matter of time before the Crocotta’s clan could join the show. After all, The game was played in their territory. If he didn't allow those beasts voluntarily, they would get in by force. Didn't they already have sent two spies inside?

Following Nicolai's advice by contacting them first and asking for a contract with a safe retreat was the most logical resolution.

Yet he couldn’t brush up on the sorrow of losing this farm.

He suddenly remembered a small talk he long ago had with Nicolai when they have fallen apart:

" Did you know why I make this choice? Because I won’t win a thing by taking your side. You easily give up. You always take the safe road, always retreating when you face an obstacle, whether small or big. You never afraid of confronting people as you get ahead in the struggle of life."

Francis thought again and concluded that Nicolai didn’t propose this plan to invite the Crocotta only because the latter thought that he would follow it because it reflects his wavering nature.

Suddenly, the leisurely, self-contained atmosphere replaced by an obstacle of disgust and disdain. Francis got mad at his person. He was doing exactly what Nicolai had planned for him to do.

He stormed out of the main hall gripping anxiously the documents of the contract. When he gets to the main split staircase of the building. He halted to observe Nicolai struggling to descend it.

Once Nicolai noted the presence of the crimson lord at the end of the stairs. He paused, then gave a fake smile to greet him before he said: “a good day for you, my lord.”

The Count felt the urge to grab that fake smile and wipe the horse offal with it. He screamed at him in a serious tone: "Stay there, I need you for something important."

The two of them worked their way to the Count's study room in extreme silence, the Count was taking the lead while Mr. Hendrickson was finding a hard time chasing after him.

At the door, the Count declared without looking backward: "The Crocotta’s young ladies want me to appoint a witness to view the final signing of the contract. Of course, the young lady will appoint a witness from her side too.”

" Her mother?" Nicolai asked as if he knew the meaning of this arrangement. The fake smile left his lips whom they have curved in the opposite direction. He knew that the need for a witness, it only means one thing, share transfer.

"No, someone else, more important, I have chosen you to be the witness on my side." Francis placed the documents in Nicolai's hands before he closed the door, leaving him out.

Nicolai skimmed through the papers, the ecstasy from before evaporating like boiled water. He crushed the papers between his fingers because he just confirmed that the Count wanted him to be a witness when the ownership of the shares of this farm will be transferred. And what an irony. This transfer concerned Nicolai's shares to be legal under the Count disposal.

What a killer move. For Nicolai losing his shares, it didn't only mean that he lost his fortune, it's also meant that he also will lose his connections.

How could Akila do this to him, How could this be legally done whiteout his consent? He took the papers again, and this time he read them carefully... He came to an understanding that an incarcerated person and a free person are not the same.

Nicolai crushed the papers between his hands as he said between his lips: "after you took my freedom, you want to spoil all connections that took me years to build."

In the study room the count’s knotted eyebrows relaxed a little, he sat behind the desk and listened to the extreme fainted flow of the blood, aware that Nicolai still standing behind the door, he hissed into his heart: "If you thought that you can use the Crocotta to get away from me, you should think again."

****

The tiny droplets of water spread all over kanari face. They reflected the light to take the appearance of precious gems. They looked under the dark skin beneath like a serene night sky. Kanari struggled to breathe through her nostrils. Her fingers trembled when she used them to mop her wet skin. Her mother gave her a clean towel and asked: "How do you feel? "

She rubbed her face with the towel as if she were trying to pull her skin out before she confessed: "Humiliated, disappointed, and mad at me… I fell directly into his provocation." she used the towel to dry her hands in the same angry style and continued:

"I feel that I have lost to him, even though I entered the battle having the upper hand."... "I feel like I should have strangled him with my own hands."

" I am proud of you."

Akila said as she placed the documents on the contract on the disarranged desk. Unconsciously, she began to arrange it while she continued: "You did well in your first time. The most important thing now is to learn from this mistake, never let your emotions overcome your remarks. Maybe, You seemed a little hesitant, but that's okay. This will get better with experience."

She finally lifted her head to have a look at kanari whom her tantrum subsided and a red tint of shine slightly painted her cheeks. It was an expressive image of a kid getting his parents' encouragement. With that Akila couldn't help but to give her one of her warm motherly smiles, before she advanced to stand near her.

She used her thumb to scrub the droplet of water stuck in her eyebrows.

"Remember our objective that there is no victory in the destruction. Getting this farm destroyed in a pointless battle is also an eminent loss to us."

Akila stated, her voice was almost like a night whisper and her daughter understood perfectly the hidden meaning under her mother's words.


	45. Chapter Forty-five : A new issue arose

Fewer mongrels stayed behind to clean the tavern, while the others started the preparation for the funeral ceremony.

A ceremony that promised to be the most prestigious, since the head of a maidservant is going to give a hand in preparation.

Those promises made residents feel that their angry calls have been responded to. The head of the maidservant even promised them that the lord, the holy lord, will bless the ceremony with his presence and will lead the search for the predator in person. The holy lord had welcomed a special guest to help him accomplish this sacred mission.

Still, the death of loved ones and acquaintances is sorrowful.

Sometimes shouts and cries can be heard now and then under the gravest of the night. Tears never stopped to flow…

It was a long day for them.

Even a steel-hard heart will melt if he witnessed such a display of solidarity and cohesion. So what about the heart of a warrior…

Savannah was in a daze, somehow a little absorbed in this momentary spectacle.

She hated herself for this; she hated her fragile heart that always falls victim to the appreciation of heroism. However, she confirmed her understanding that life is the same for all living beings, no matter where they stand in the gigantic pyramid of existence.

" I don't think that I can digest any meat that will come from this farm anymore." She murmured to herself.

“I began to grasp the foundation of your philosophy” her last sentence was meant for the bulky man that was halted behind her. His unchanged breathing pace gave her the impression that he wasn't listening to her, but she discerned that he was faking it from her earlier observations. Thus, she didn't want to drag the subject more than it deserved then she turned to talk about the most pressing matters: "Somebody must have seen us while we were cleaning?"

"Certainly not when you were with me," Isidore answered.

Savannah crossed her arms behind her back and felt that he was flattering her for an undefined reason, hence come her grasp about his good manners with women. He apprehended what could and couldn't please them, which implies his vast experience with the graceful gender. She confirmed yet again and from another angle that this Kerit isn't uncouth as his external appearance shows.

A recent discovery was made by Savannah, and each encounters her mind form a new theory about his identity and his reason for making a contract with her.

“I wish I can be as confident as you say, that day the tavern was filled with a combination of different scents, death, blood, alcohol, cooked food, workers, and the list goes on… it is very hard to be sure about whether someone has seen us or not.” Savannah clarified as she advanced. Her answer was a counterattack, clear to him that any compliment won't get him anywhere.

While in her mind, she counted the number of unfamiliar scents she had memorized that day. It was more than twenty or so. She tried to remember any other specific one that she had found suspicious. And finally, she asked to clarify: "On that day I have smelled the scent of alcohol from above. Do they keep alcohol on the roof of the tavern? Don't tell me they store it there…"

And bump, the realization struck her in one go.

Who could it be, the drunk was on the roof that night, or was it a drunk person in the first place?

Alcohol has one of the mustiest smells, it can blend with other odors or surpass them. Also, it is an excellent choice for camouflage against breath tracking.

Still waiting for a response, her sharp ears detected the steps behind and confirmed to her that the Kerit was following her. However, the sound of his steps was dim and slow, as if he was uncertain about something she couldn't fathom.

She stopped walking when she sensed the pace of his breath wavering. Her pale yellow eyes gleamed while she let her head turn to observe him. A face hidden in the shadows, she was unable to discern its expressions.

Her fist tensed as she became ready for any sudden movement. And before she jumped to any decision, she inquired: "What's wrong?" and it took her several seconds to get an answer.

"We have another problem, you need to be aware of."

Savannah's tense muscles relaxed a bit. Her narrowed eyes loosened when she completely turned back to face him as she inquired about this additional problem.

****

In the forest that surrounded the village where the Kerit has chosen to live, away from the mongrel village but still inside the perimeter of the barrier. There was a torn remain of woods scattered near what used to be a cottage. In the middle surfaced a huge black body with a black silky fur, rhythmically rising, then falling with each inspiration and expiration.

Savannah stood nearby looking at the gigantic framework of an Amarok in a complete display. Even the big Kerit in his two legs form of an eight cubit was a dwarf compared to him. Thankfully, the trees were taller than his curled up body. However, the first thing that came to her mind was how she is going to hide this giant from her mother?

The Kerit cut her distrust and said: "He is sleeping. Probably the whole process of the reshaping took all his remaining energy, plus he didn't fully recover from his injuries."

" When did he enter the process of reshaping?"

" He didn't wake up after your attack, likely it was an unconscious reflex. We are in big trouble if he wakes up."

“I am doomed if he wakes up.” Savannah murmured, her fears were primarily generated from her mother finding out about the little secret that she shared with her sister. And she fully knew that she is going to get a severe punishment for it before her planning and hard work will give its fruits. She looked at the big man then asked:

"During his presence on this farm, did he transform before?"

The big man thought for a while before he answered: "No… but maybe because the doctor was giving him some kind of suppressor."

Savannah gave him the gaze of a person who needed more details hence he continued to explain: "It's a common practice in the art of medicine when dealing with a shape-shifter, exactly when the injuries are extremely severe or before a complex surgical act. It is advantageous to give a reshaping suppressor."

Isidoro glanced at Savannah's face to see her reaction and decided to continue: "It is known that it speeds up the regeneration capacity."

Savannah frowned at him. She was fully aware that he was provoking her and wondered about what he was getting at. Yet she praised him for the sake of returning his earlier compliment: "I am very lucky that you are knowledgeable about the art of medicine."

"That's because I have assisted a doctor before," Isidore said while he was glancing at her face with the corner of his eyes.

"Rokah?" Savannah blurted the name deliberately as she thought this must be his aim all along. So the doctor this Kerit assisted before must be Rokah, no wonder, it explains why he seemed that he knows him. What kind of connection these two have in the past, surely not just a simple doctor assistant one.

“Well, this is not the name he used to call himself with at that time.” The Kerit dropped this comment in such a manner to seem just a superficial, innocent note. Nevertheless, the information he had gotten from her subtle reaction was more than enough to verify his doubts.

Savannah was itching to learn more about what this man knows about Rokah. Maybe that will help her in her search. However, she didn't want to appear eager, thus she changed the subject and stated: "does that mean he is going to return to his former shape if we give him a suppressor?"

"I don't know, the suppressor generally woks before the shape-shifting, but maybe it will work."

Without a delay, Savannah jumped to the nearest tree branch and said instructing, "Stay here, I will come back after I get the suppressor."

Isidore observed her shadow as she jumped from tree to tree until she disappeared from his sight. He mumbled between his lips blaming “what a moron, how he got himself mixed with the Crocotta clan in the first place. I warned him a million times to not get very close to them. I had warned him a million times that those gorgeous ladies are not what they seem and very dangerous...”

Savannah was running as fast as she could. She was racing the wind to get to Rokah's place. Her heart was furious. That Ketrit was shamelessly prying into her personal matter. She promised herself that she is going to make him pay for it sooner rather than later.


	46. Chapter Forty-six : A wish from the heart

The first ray of the twilight announced the start of the new day. The stillness controlled the majority of alleys and small paths, as if the events of yesterday were a trifling meager dream, waned from the memories. Or like a tiny leaf fell in the riverside and got washed away by a strong current, farther and farther into the unknown.

Though, there was something strange, subtle… lingering in the air.

This undetermined feeling made Savannah stop, arbitrarily from her rush, and try to unfold this vague, fuzzy feeling that overwhelmed her and enclosed the air around her surroundings.

She couldn't understand what was happening, neither she could decipher her peculiar perceptions.

She progressed ahead at a slow pace, all warned and ready. While sucking her canines and waving with her claws in the air.

What could be this strange thing that she couldn't explain or understand?

It was like an unlocked cage, invaded by the wind. Then danced as if no one was looking.

The light that fled the sunrise clashed into her dark skin and reflected in her eyes. So her vision was obstructed for a moment. Still, her ears picked up the distant sound of drums.

She wondered…

From where, and who is it?

She raised her head to the sky, then she opened her eyes toward the horizon, following the direction of the sound.

It got closer and closer.

A small black dot in the sky approaching, little by little. Its size grew bit by bit. And the sound of the drum became louder and louder.

She couldn't catch any distinct scent because the course of the wind was against her, thus she depended solely on her sight and her hearing.

This sound of drums. She recognized it. She had heard it before, but her mind refused to admit it. It was illogical. Until she witnessed that flying carriage. The Hippogriff drawn carriage.

She didn't understand or believe her eyes. She blinked once, twice, thrice, attempting to free her vision from what she thought an illusion. Yet the Hippogriff drawn carriage still there, suspended in the air, between the heaven and the earth.

For Savannah, The Hippogriff drawn carriage only meant one thing. She whispered in shock: "what's going on?". She blinked again, and finally admitted:". The barrier must have been collapsed.", then, she looked down at the roads and alleys, and checked the windows and doors, searching for the residents, to see their curious faces and hear their fearful whispers, expecting them to go out of their houses, alerted by the sound of the drums. But, to her second surprise, while surveying from the roofs, she only detected bodies of the ones who seemed in a state of deep sleep. At that moment, her priorities have shifted, and she quickly changed her destination to where she thought the Hippogriff carriage will land.

The tempo of drumming slowed down, then softened, once the Hippogriff carriage getting closer to the central yard of the main house. Everybody who was not affected by the induced state of sleep, outdoor or indoor, heard the dim sound when the carriage parked on the ground.

Those who didn't know the rider's identity rushed to the site to check what is it. The majority were workers under Seaben commands. While those who were familiar with this drumming rhythm, the deep brown colored four Hippogriffs and finally the odd embossed sigil on the roof as well as on the doors of the carriage have a conflicting reaction.

The first one who has arrived at the site was the crimson lord himself. The whooshing vacuum-like sound he left behind rendered the workers whom he had overrun in second deaf and stupefied. He stopped at the entrance of the yard, leaving a certain distance between himself and whoever was within the carriage. Based on his nightwear as well as his barefoot, he seemed that he was getting ready for a rest. Yet, he got arbitrarily interrupted at the last moment.

Kanari rushed to her mother's room. Her guise was curious more than being worried. She witnessed her mother opening the balcony doors. Without waiting, she blurted: "Ma! What lord Shiva carriage doing here, down in the yard.". Her rip-roaring voice contained something of excitement and surprise. Though, she swallowed her breath along with her other inquiries as soon as she upheld the grim, barren cloud that veiled her mother's visage when she turned to face her.

The butler didn't waste a moment. After he heard the drum’s timbre, a chill of horror climbed under his stiffened skin, like a thousand ants swarming a green tree. He dashed to his office room, transforming it into a mountain of disarray while searching high and low for his important items.

In the music room, Nicolai was enjoying a session of tea. Sipping it sluggishly, bit by bit, in a calm cyclic motion. His eyes were lost in the void as if he didn't hear anything. When the noisy rhythm of the drum ceased, he leisurely stood up and walked toward the half-opened curtains to still a few picks. By the time the door of the carriage unfastened, Nicolai’s gaze reflected a profound sentiment of satisfaction.

A small part of wand appeared under the opened door, followed by a skinny bare leg descending the rung of the carriage. Then, followed, a long robe covered not just the bare leg, but also the earth beneath.

From over the balcony in left, lady Akila remarked: "A big misunderstanding is going to happen now, what are you going to do to prevent it." She was looking at the ferocious expression that carved the Count’s face while her words were directed to her daughter Kanari.

Kanari used the balcony siding to support her weight on her arms, then she moved her body in rotational motion to jump outside and amount to the yard. Her black and Delft blue clothes unfurled in the air like Ceropegia flower. Her sudden arrival at the event square stopped the crimson lord from making his move. However, he straightened himself and demanded: "What’s going on? what’s the meaning of this?"

"Please calm down my lord, this is our associates. I humbly apologize, I know this is not what we have agreed on..."

Kanari noticed that the Count wasn’t concentrating on her or her apology. She chased after the object of his interests to find it behind her. The short dwarf who trapped in his long robe and fall. The display of him struggling to walk again on his feet was extremely pitying. She felt as if the remains of dogs hit her. She looked at the Count, and she saw him making a face of "So, this is the rumored mighty Lord Shiva!"

Nevertheless, she hurried and helped Lord Shiva to stand on his feet.

The worker who has joined the yard stood behind the crimson lord and waited on burning coal to see the face of this unknown guest. Because they were all afraid to approach.

"Prepare a room for our guests." The Count ordered the servants who were with him, then retreated inward without further inquiry. He wanted to conceal his shock as quickly as possible.

Yes, inside his heart, he was profoundly shocked. The arrival of this dwarf has one and only explanation "the barrier had collapsed."

That’s right, the deal he had made with Seaben was ended when he had signed the contract with the Crocotta. But Francis has thought there is no way Seaben will lose control over the source of the barrier this fast, faster than he had calculated. Didn't that greedy bastard make plenty of slavery contract that will temporarily replenish his power? Or maybe that vilified short dwarf is quite the deal.

Francis thought Even if he was protected by the contract, he mustn’t slake off, he needs to start preparing for his departure right away. Who knows what those pairs of mother and daughter are hiding.

Francis glanced at the balcony where lady Akila was before the darkness of the house swallowed him.

The few remaining workers were preparing a room for the new guest. And since the Count wasn’t the lord of the house anymore, he needed to rely on himself to get ready. The first thing he thought of was his office and all the important papers. Through his super-speed, he crossed half of the distance to his office in one second. He just stopped to look at his ex-butler, who was also in a hurry to flee.

And finally, One last look at this greedy creature whom he never liked for personal preference. Francis' eyes were filled with despise. He walked away while he wished in his heart for his ex-butler quick a downfall.

"I doubt that vilified dwarf that you fear so much can slaughter you, but I hope that the Crocotta will do so."


	47. Chapter Forty-seven : A fleeting goodbye

Few hours before the barrier collapse.

Rokah wasn’t focusing on the conversation, he occasionally pretended that he was drinking from the goblet and sometimes he gave a nod or smile to indicate that he agrees with them. No one of his companions noticed Rokah's self detachment from the present moment or noted his awkward reactions. As for him, he was wallowing in pity, grief, and hopelessness, incapable to bring himself to decide.

In solitude, like a single tree stem in the cold desert, he attempted to voice what was on his mind. Yet once more he held himself back.

Perhaps an implied approach will serve his cause better.

Bring attention to himself. He used the spoon to tap on the empty glass. It was successful as everyone around the table looked at him. He used this opportunity and stood to talk in a loud voice:

"Life here became dangerous, Why won't we leave this place. Why won't we build another village in another place to live there?"

The confused glances that showered him made him a bit anxious because he never liked to be the center of attention. Nevertheless, he used this unwelcome attention to advance his agenda:

"What if our lord let that beast kill us and feed on our bodies on purpose? I mean that there were a lot of victims, but he didn't do a thing to find out the whereabouts of this killer?"

Everybody was stoned, silent, and gave him the look of what this mad person is saying.

The flame of the doubts worked her way into Rokah heart and rendered it black, Mr. Hendrickson was right. That's why he wasn't afraid when Rokah challenged him to reveal the truth to the resident.

Those creatures were manipulated from the birth, they were purposely conditioned to be ignorant, lived in a perfect lie. Will they believe him?

One of them said: "The chief promised us that this matter is going to be a top priority. He even invited a special guest to help him. What more can we ask for?"

Yet Rokah said again: "No, I am just wondering if maybe our lord had sold our lives to this killer, that's why he didn't do anything from the start."

Everyone was shouting: "It's impossible." "No, what he is talking about, there is no way our Lord is going to do something like that."

Rokah understood that it is hopeless to get blood from a stone. Thus, he tried another approach, not for the sake of making the justice for those mongrels, but he just hated the idea that everything is going as Mr. Hendrickson predicted: "What if those guests will betray our Lord, and they will kill us all?"

A wave of laughter followed the doctor's theory. Some of them thanked him for these jokes despite that he was a bad entertainer.

Rokah returned to his seat and said after much pondering: "Why don't we just leave this village?"

Then one of them asked: "doctor you want to leave?"

"You never dreamed of going outside and see the world?"

"No, the outside world is dangerous, cruel, especially for us, mongrels. No one had returned after they get out, besides, we are blessed here and this is the place where we have born and it will be where we are going to live." and another one said: "Hah, You must be drunk, who thought that you will be a bad entertainer when you are drunk. But today enjoy yourself as much as you can."

The lips and tongue that move with confidence narrating the epic story of the manifestation. Saliva’s drizzle dropped like rain. How magnificent they were and how marvelous it was in their solidarity. Their insolence reached a degree of fear over what a wise man can call a recklessness when one of them declared that they need to reunite and help the lord to chase and kill the monster Aractanthrope.

Rokah previously wondered many times what their reaction will be if they know the truth. However, now he confirmed Mr. Hendrickson's prediction that he will need a lifetime to convince them of the truth and maybe it won't be enough.

When the last glass of beer was emptied, Rokah volunteered to replenish it. He carried the bottle and walked toward the kitchen. He made sure that no one was looking at him before he added a white powder to the liquor container. Murmuring between his lips: "don't think that I will let things simply go your way," he waited a moment, so the powder will sufficiently get mixed, then he refilled the bottle.

He placed the filled bottle on the table and said: "Thank you for inviting me, my stay end here. I am tired and I Have a lot of work to complete."

One of them held his glass high and shoot: "we will invite you again when we kill the monster…"

Red face, clumsy motion, he was drunk. All of them were drunk. Maybe that's why they didn't notice anything, even when Rokah stated that he will never meet with them again and sealed his last words by one of his dead smiles.

Outside, it was calm and empty. The smell of spring tickled the sensors on Rokah skin and somehow it was warmer than usual.

What a beautiful day tomorrow is going to be. Perhaps The spring will bring a new beginning for this village And have mercy on its residents.

In the end, playing a hero was just not his style, he thought, neither it was his objective.

A world where all the odds against you, it doesn't give you much of a choice.

It was the time of his departure.

***

One hand on the doorknob and Rokah felt threatened. It made his senses returned from their temporary slumber and the sentimentality of goodbye. When he unlocked the door, the scent of liquor washed away the lasting fragrance of objurgation over this village and its residents.

What could be the source of this smell? He didn't drink and never bring alcohol to his room. Was it the Aractanthrope giving him one last visit?

Still, he pushed through the door and got in.

Nothing was wrong in the room, the floor was soiled with the alcohol. Then it hit him like lightning the familiar voice accompanied by the weak sound of two hands clapping on each other "excellent, it took me a long time to figure it out, the one who was behind this chaos, well that's because I didn't expect this from you. I wonder what did you gain from this apart from inciting my anger."

Rokah kept his silence right, and he didn't show an objection when the lady entered his room and locked the door.

Rokah didn't want to meet her gaze, he kept his eyes low toward the floor searching for her face reflection on the spilled alcohol. But when he stumbled on the pale yellow eyes glaring at him through the reflection, he shied to look at all.

He wished that she will start this unavoidable conversation as soon as possible, so he could be liberated from this suffocating pressure.

As if his wish to get fulfilled, Savannah said while she walked to inspect the incomplete canvas: "Then what is your side of the story? Why did you cause this mess in the village?"

She waited for an answer while keeping herself busy inspection the unfinished painting. A scent of burned papers took a source from where Rokah was standing played with her attention. She concluded that maybe he was incinerating leaves.

Her patient run off when she didn't get her answer, thus she nodded to him: "If you don't tell me, I will find myself obligated to take action based on what I understood from the situation."

The unfinished painting was depicting a gloomy air, a headstone in a cemetery, and someone - unfinished shadow - was kneeling in front of the headstone. Beneath it emerged a climbing plant with a white flower. Savannah was unable to fathom the symbolism behind this painting. But she somehow made her remember the painting that was drawn for her. She never doubted that this one will be just like the other, gloomy and full of symbolism.

"You want to kill the Kerit that much?"

"..."

"I will not take this personally. But I am not going to tolerate another act of disobedience. Or tolerate another mess. If you are going to play cat and mouse with the kerit, do it after you have finished your work and."

Savannah stopped, then took a long gaze before she added. "I won't get satisfied by cutting off our agreement, you understand what I mean, right!" her tone was threatening and angrily, "Do not expect that this act going to pass without penalty."

However, her mind was occupied by something else, something urgent and unforeseen. And maybe that’s why she didn’t give much thought to what her informer's true intention behind the mess he had stirred in the village. She only wanted to intimidate him for now, then deal with him later. After she gets some medicines to surpass the Amarok unexpected transformation before her mouth, or the Count or anyone from the main house will notice his presence.

Alone in that small room, Rokah was left to drown in the solitude of the darkness. Victim to his nightmares and the ghost of his melancholic thoughts. The pressure on his ribs was heavier than any rock, but his heart was set straight on his goal to leave this cursed place at once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody,
> 
> Finally, my take on, The allegory of the cave, or Plato's Cave, has come to it end. I hope I have succeeded in doing so.
> 
> If you aren't sure on what is The allegory of the cave, you can watch this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1RWOpQXTltA


	48. Chapter Forty-eight : A different prespective

This morning wasn't like any other morning at this farm. Maybe it was calm and serene, even a little warm compared to the other mornings. However, there was some pronounced restless is nurturing inside the heart of everyone, especially for those who reside in the manor.

A weird sensation of an upcoming great change was felt but never understood by those who call themselves mongrels.

Whether good or bad from their perspective. It was undeniable as a wave of intense sleep hypnotized all the residents gradually into a deep slumber, except those who were directly under Seaben direct control.

The scent of unnatural sleep lingering in the new air that was overflowing without restriction. A subtle sign that could never escape lady Akila's keen senses.

While she stood outside, gently patting the Hippogriff neck, reflective eyes to the sky, her lips were neutral and her head busy forming a million connections.

Someone is activating the emergency sleep incantation, thus every being whose name recorded in the farm's register will go in deep slumber.

This elaborated counterattack measure against any deregulation and chaos was designed by Lord Shiva for emergencies to avoid a big causality. And only the three key investors know the incantation. Plus, the one who activated the spell needed the names' register in his possession for the incantation to work.

Nicolai is playing all his cards to not lose his shares. Or this was what lady Akila thought. But, the question that she couldn't formulate an answer for, was: how could he calculate the events, so they all succeed to his favor. There is no doubt in Akila's mind that the barrier abolition is closely related to the activation of the incantation.

At first, and before she entered the farm, when her informers related to her that the Chimera farm supply has stopped for months, she had sent Nicolai several letters of inquiry asking for the reasons why the supply has stopped? And when she didn't get a reply, she thought that the greed ate his brain, and he wanted to exploit her preoccupation in the last few months with some small conflicts with the regional border council and gain full control over it.

Those last few months were really difficult, but they were also beneficial. The murder of the colubrine black dragon and the seizing of Mt. Ninurta was a gigantic step since years of stagnation. Though, of course, this step came with it one challenge starting from regional border council charges.

Akila also thought that Nicolai has a hidden hand behind those charges to implicate her further in the murder. However, it seems that she was overthinking it.

While she was wrestling all her enemies inside and outside to expand her clan territory and keep her authority. Nicolai was having his bloody battle in unexpected places and against unexpected frenemy.

She knew about his tight relation with the Jasmine bloodline and never minded it or cared about it as long as he was fulfilling his responsibilities towards their mutual investment. Nevertheless, now, she eagerly wanted to know what happened between one of the eminent Jasmine bloodline figures and Mr. Hendrickson, as well as what could be that caused his downfall to this unrecoverable degree?

When Her hand stopped the patting movement, the Hippogriff snaffled in displeasure. She hurried and soothed it with affection, aware of the approaching shadow on the horizon.

"What happened?" Akila asked the person whom she was waiting for. But her inquiry was answered by another.

"So I wasn't hallucinating, Lord Shiva is here." Savannah approached from behind, admiring the carriage and thinking fast to find a way to answer her mother's next questions without fully answering them.

"Everything has calmed down there? What was the cause of this mess?" The same question but using other words. Akila was impatient to find out what was going on.

"Yes, calmer than it should be. I even stumbled on a multiple Chimera in profound slumber, the name register had been used probably within an hour after the barrier abolition."

Akila paused, then she walked toward the entrance and Savannah followed in her trail and asked, aiming to taste the water and finding out what her mother's thoughts:

"This is so unexpected, what do you think, mother?"

"How about you, my dear, what do you think of the whole situation?"

Savannah was startled a bit, but she answered, giving her half knowledge about the matter.

"It's very obvious that this is Hendrickson's hidden hands working in the shadow. He used the Chimera uproar as a decoy to burn the main contracts made by the Chimera dealer so he won't be able to sustain the barrier anymore. It's surely not a coincidence that the barrier collapsed the same day when our negotiations were concluded. That means that he was waiting for us the Crocotta to cut off the Magus's most powerful contractor before he proceeded to destroy the other secondary contracts. Typical Hendrickson's strategy."

Akila stopped ascending the stairs and turned toward Savannah, who she was just behind her. She seemed that she wanted to say something, but she didn't move her lips.

"Isn't it a good thing?" Savannah said instead, "It means that Hendrickson is still on our side. He never betrayed his agreement with the Crocotta in the first place, as we have initially considered?"

"Yes. But life is not always as simple as we love to imagine it."

"Then what is it?" Savannah looked at her mother then she declared: "Could it be… That we have already sold him out?... Mum, I hate not being faithful to those whom I consider my allies."

"This is not the warrior code of honor Savannah, this is business. And Nicolai is far from being a warrior and certainly less than an ally."

Akila turned back and resumed moving toward the stairs, she also added after a few steps:

"The deal was made, you have no say in it. Don't forget that your decision to not participate actively in the negotiation. Secondly, you still didn't meet Hendrickson in person. You will understand your sister's choice when you see him."

Savannah felt that her mother last words carried a touch of anger against her because she refused to be an active part during the entire operation. Probably her mother wanted both her and kanari to work with each other, support each other, and learn something new in the process. But Savannah's superficial interest ruined her mother's plan. Yet, Savannah never thought that her mother will follow Kanari childish desire to cut off Hendrickson's collaboration based on a personal taste of like and dislike.

While in contrast, Kanari will never decide on anything without the blessing of her mother.

Savannah reflected deeper on the subject and decided that she needed to meet Hendrickson in person before she could judge her mother's decision.

Savannah lost in her world of logic, she didn't notice her mother back ceased to advance, as a result, she received a powerful blow to the nose made her lose her balance. She recuperated by taking her mother stretched a hand to pull her forward while hearing her say in a low voice

"I was monitoring Nicolai all the time, he never gets out of the house, How did he cause the Chimera mess. No matter how calculating he is, there is no way he could pull all of this by himself alone considering the awful shape of his body… he must have someone helping him." She paused for a short period, then she added: "At first I thought he was using Bi-an, but, I didn't feel her presence at all. Didn't you notice any suspicious person when you were strolling the farm?"

Savannah's expression stiffened as she felt this subtle comment was directed to her and this little accident of dumping her nose was without a doubt intentional.

And while she was soothing her naris’s pain, she captured a very particular scent revived in her memory the flower she had seen drawn in Rokah painting.

The scent was distant, faint, and came in spaced waves, she looked at her mother's face asking for an approval to follow the source of this smell and easily got the nod of consent. Without wasting a second, she hunted its source.

The last thing she had heard from her mother was that she needed to bring some clothes with her before she will join her sister and Lord Shiva in the main hall.

***

The scent guided Savannah to the music room. There, she perceived the presence of somebody she definitely knew, however; he seemed in some way she couldn’t fathom different, weird.

Her eyes glowed in the darkness as she entered the room. And there he was, alone in the dark.

This must be Mr, Hendrickson’s look. But what is this strange aura that he reflects like he wasn’t the same person anymore?

When he turned his head to look at her, she instantly understood the basis of her mother's choice. And that made her limbs rigid.

Before he raised from the chair, Savannah advanced slowly, step by step as if she was afraid of being found out. And when he finally confronted her, she said in the abrupt, spasmodic voice:

"You are… no longer a human being!"

Nicolai’s face didn’t change at her frank remark, placid and pretending as always, he also commented: "You are taller and much manlier than I remember you."

Savannah didn’t respond, in contrast, she mirrored back to him the same face’s expressions of indifference he had showed her.

To avoid the awkward silence that emerged to dominate the room again, Nicolai hurried to strike first:

"The letter I sent with my servant Bi-an, was addressed to you. To be honest, it distressed me when the replay comes from your mother. And what has bugged me more is when you didn’t take part in this negotiation. Even, you didn’t openly show yourself as a member of the Crocotta’s delegations…"

"…."

"There is no way Akila will deny you the chance of meeting a pure bloodline Hématophage."

"Get to the point."

"I don’t know, it's just speculation on my part. There must be a shift in the authority line of the Crocotta congregation."

Savannah paused for a few seconds and used the opportunity to look at the files in Nicolai's hands. Despite that, there wasn’t enough light yet she could read some words, then concluded that this must be the final contract.

She shifted her pale yellow eyes to Mr. Hendrickson again and denied: "No, your speculations are wrong. My mother still holds the complete control and authority over the clan."

Nicolai moved his wrist of the hand that is gripping on the cane’s handle, then pressed it into the floor while saying: "Then the problem must lie within you. Have you changed your mind, do you not wish to be the next successor because of that?"

Savannah's eyes closed therefore the white hair in her right eyelashes became more prominent. She also gave a broad smile, then walked overstepping Hendrickson's current position, hands behind her back, chest respiring rhythmically. This black snake succeeded in overthrowing the conversation elsewhere, to the topic that she detests the most.


	49. Chapter Forty-nine : A game of wits

Kanari eye was fixated on the small brownish creature who was trying hard to climb into the chair. She was standing far from him near the door, her face was saying: "where is mother? Why did she leave me alone with him? I am not used in handling him, and why he looks like this, is he under some curse?"

The brownish small goblin-like creatures stopped his struggling and looked back at Kanari. This surprised her in a not very good way. She was actually a little bit disgusted.

"Care to give me a hand?" He said his eyes lacked the piteous effect of a person who needed and wanted help.

A frown of anger slipped to Kanari eyebrows as a result she didn't move an inch and murmured in her heart: "Maybe this curse is contagious, better not get close to him again."

The small creature glared at her. That only made her resolve to not help him enhanced.

He finally asked, "Who are you? You are not Savannah?"

Then Kanari frustration piled up and wanted to help him fly through the window by a powerful straight kick.

But some internal insight made her believe that he had said that on purpose. Actually, as Kanari reckoned that Lord Shiva was referring to her little contribution in constricting this farm and her weak role in the external affairs of the Crocotta clan in general.

She forgets about keeping distance, the contagious curse, and right when she was pretending to help him sit on the chair she let him deliberately lose balance, so he would fall on his face.

The fall wasn't that hard still the sound of skin laceration as well as clothes tearing was everywhere, mixed with the sound of a chair falling off.

The surrounding furniture was also trembling as if there was an earthquake. What is going on?

Kanari backed away and watched in a shock the release of two bat-like wings surging in the hall. They were emerging from Lord Shiva's tiny back that it was too under some kind of distortion. Moreover, his limbs were growing like a germinated seed under the rich ground.

And bit by bit Lord Shiva's true physique emerged like the chick from its own egg. Morsel remains of lacerated skin were spread all over the place.

In a few seconds, Lord Shiva bat-like wings completely stretched wide, his pair of black horns surrounded his pine green hair like a crown, reptile-like scales scattered in the air, both of his hands and knees on the floor in pronograde posture.

Kanari screamed as she turned her back to him in bashfulness: "You jerk, you are naked."

The one who heard her shout was Savannah since she was the closest to their location. When She entered the hall in a rush, she never thought that she was going to witness what a reserved person considered; one of nature's shameless coincidences.

Her sister's red face was covered by her hands, Lord Shiva's naked body on the floor. He appeared dizzy and unaware of his delicate position.

Savannah squeezed the clothing pieces that she brought according to her mother's request and said to herself: "Mum, without being biased. You are truly merciless."

Savannah knew very well Lord Shiva reserved character toward women in general, and she knows that after today, he will never look Kanari in the eyes, ever.

Savannah pondered about a reason that made her mother play this so not honorable trick. She could only think of one reason. Her mother is preparing Kanari to take the responsibility of operating this farm, and by playing this trick she gave her a strong push against one of the main investors.

Once Lord Shiva woke up from the dizziness and saw the two ladies near the entrance, furthermore he felt his own nakedness. Hurriedly he covered himself with his wings while asking for the clothes in Savannah's hands and for the two of them to get out.

×××

In the hallway, the two of them met.

Lady Akila was leisurely resting her back on the handrail. She was examining the hanged painting in admiration. When Nicolai advancing steps halted, Lady Akila finally moved her head slowly to the left to have a clear look at him. Then she straightened her body to appear studious.

Nicolai apprehended that she was waiting for him. More likely, she was waiting for his conversation with Savannah to end. He was a little bit startled and questioned why didn't she joined her eldest child rather than waiting outside?

This gorgeous beast was always hard to predict.

"Care to join me in this stroll. " She said while extending her hand to him in elegance.

The suspicion ate through his mind and asked, not attempting to hide his wariness: "Where?"

"Of cause to the cemetery," she answered with a sly smile on her lips and waited for his reaction.

When she saw his interested face's expression, she confirmed her presumption. undid, the crimson Lord had given him a copy of the farm's new contract. But there was another inquiry into her heart, she had yet to find an answer to it: "does Nicolai helped in the barrier distraction before or after he reads the new contract?"

Answering this question won't change the outcome either way because, in the end, that hairy Chimera traitor's primary source of power was the deal he made with the crimson lord. Even if his side deals will perish, he won't suffer as much as blowing off his main deal. So Akila concluded that the only gain she had got from Nicolai interference was a few days in advance.

What remained now is Shiva to seal the new contract. Obviously, Nicolai won't like this result since he was kicked out.

However, this is Nicolai, and Nicolai never does philanthropy. There must be there an alternative interpretation to the case where Nicolai benefits considerably from those few gained days.

"I am sorry my lady, I fear I can't be at your high regard this time. I am sure that you are informed about my recent condition that makes me vulnerable to the sunlight."

"What a pity?" Akila said: "It seems that it also made you a bit slow in here." and used her index finger to point to her head before she continued: "I am saying that I am giving you a choice, better saying a chance. Besides, it's not like we are in the middle of summer, as well as the sunlight is obstructed by a dark cloud. "

Eventually, a percentage of concern floated on Mr. Hendrickson's apathetic face: "Maybe you are right, maybe some fresh air will help my sick body"

And thus both of them walked to the cemetery.

To prevent the atmosphere from being stagnant anew, Lady Akila put a former inquiry into words. An inquiry she long since wanted to have a clarification about it, but she had never found a suitable time to ask about till this moment. Hopefully, this is the opportunity to do so. Therefore she said while they are walking side by side: "where is my gorgeous doll, why I didn't see her anywhere?" she was talking about Mr. Hendrickson's capable maid.

Nicolai halted suddenly, letting her outrun him, then waited for her to turn back, so she could see the trace of puzzlement that he created deliberately on his visage.

"What?" she pouted, then she added: "I have given her to you, but still I do have the right to ask about her well-being."

"No, not that. Well, how should I articulate this…"

"… No…" Akila said while tilting her head, refusing to admit the obvious.

"I sent Bi-an in perfect condition with my message. And she returned… I am astonished that she was able to return."

Nicolai continued trying to avoid Akila's sullen vibe: "She collapsed shortly after her return, she was gravely injured. I have yet to decipher the identity of the attacker. This is all your territory. There's a possibility to be one of the clan members since she didn’t have any token of passage."

"It's not Savannah. I took an oath of honor for her." The reply was stiff, quick, and firm.

Since Savannah has an aggressive territorial tendency more than the norms, she was famous for beheading illegal transgressors. But the matter with Bi-an was more personal rather than being entitled to the sacred mission of protecting the Crocotta boundaries. It seemed that the bad news had not reached Savannah ears yet if not; she has made a big tantrum.

Nerveless, pondering a little on Nicolai's words, it wasn’t that hard to taste the poisonous flavor he added whenever he can, by referring to the latest opposition and the internal struggle in the clan.

On the other hand, Akila's expressions were a mix of displeasure and shock.she didn’t care anymore about lessening the awkwardness between them. Her heart was overwhelmed by a sense of loss. After all, Bi-an existence was dear to her. It took months cultivating her mannerism and programming her habits. Then there is Nicolai telling her that she is gone just like that.

She continued walking ahead of him in order to dissipate her irritation without the need to hide her galling face.

When she seized a certain degree of control over her animated emotion, she asked Nicolai, who was following her in silence, aware that he had lost a point in her favor scale. Though he had managed to draw a rough idea about the identity of the person who attacked his maid after he completely excluded Savannah.

"Is she beyond recovery?"

"Unfortunately, yes."


	50. Chapter Fifty : A labyrinth of words

With all scrutiny, Nicolai was watching every movement on Akila's unusually rich face. From the moment he saw her coming, he was skeptical. But, the approach she used to start the conversation gave him a glimpse of hope that he still has a possibility together support, of course, if he plays his cards correctly.

However, he wasn’t in a place where he can give anything in return, and Akila knew this.

Then what was the major concern that brought her?

This question in Nicolai's head, still without an answer for the moment.

Inevitably, Lady Akila wasn’t intending to ask about Bi-an, she must have already predicted her sorrowful fate when she didn’t see her throughout the period since her arrival. Maybe she was sending hints by using his maid.

For a brief moment, Nicolai considered the albino doctor who infiltrated the farm. When he was monitoring his movement Nicolai concluded the level of his intelligence. It was without objection, very high compared to Bi-an. He was even better at performing complex tasks without a need for a direct order, as if he had free will. But his perception of reality was largely distorted, infused with devious details. His sense of surroundings was foggy by design. Even so, he kept some principles and kept the crucial regulations. Maybe that was all Akila's doing, so he could perform his task.

Honestly speaking, Nicolai thought he was a masterpiece...

For what a price Akila will sell this masterpiece, Nicolai pondered to himself. Though, it seemed that she has already given it to Savannah. And perhaps it was why Savannah didn't show any remorse when he told her about Bi-an fate.

A little smile forced itself onto Nicolai's lips at the thought of himself fighting Savannah again to get one of Akila’s priceless creations.

He was always unsuccessful in provoking Savannah. She was one of these kinds of people whom he never managed to get what he desired from her unless she will get something in return from him, much like her mother Akila.

Now, the task of acquiring that albino doctor services to replace Bi-an is becoming farther and farther desire. Since how he could forget the bloody clash with Savannah over Bi-an. That time he only achieved his desire because he succeeded in convincing Akila that Savannah will be extra lazy in doing her daily chores.

He might just use the same old strategies, after all, Savannah is an expert in generating her mother's anger. And she was the kind of person who couldn't tolerate breaking the rules for so long. He only needed to find which rule she is breaking now.

Nicolai closed his eyes to lessen the soreness and dryness in them, and as well as to bring his concentration to the present moment.

Akila talked about a second chance, it’s not in her habits, to be frank when she wants to give someone a second chance, and certainly, it isn’t for free.

Both of them paused at the entrance of the cemetery, and Nicolai took the opportunity to test his eyesight in an open space. He gazed at all the graves that could get in his visual field. The scene was somehow blurred without much of the details, worse than the last time.

From the corner of his eyes, he glanced at Akila as she was attempting to cover her nose. Like someone who wanted to stop smelling an unpleasant odor.

From where came this theatrical frankness, she never uses this gesture to show her revulsion toward scents that she didn’t fancy.

Nicolai relaxed a part of his weight on the cane and took a deep breath, yet he didn't smell anything aberrant except the halo of death which he felt it more than he has smelled it.

He looked straight back into her face while questioning the possible relationship between the second chance she was going to give him, the cemetery, and the halo of death…

But, Akila's eyes weren’t looking back at him, they were fixated toward the two isolated graves with the flashy headstones molten in signs of not long ago exhumation around their soil.

He couldn’t restrain his face while the grimace of resentment controlled it and stood up silently waiting for her statement.

He watched her approaching the two headstones, one by one, then she shook her head when she read what was written on them in Aramaic and Latin. After she delivered to Nicolai a few obscure glances, he failed to translate.

Walking back near him, her mind pondered about the state of the second grave owner. Was it a Rebirth like Nicolai or an Awakening?

Nicolai felt the pressure of seriousness in her demeanor as she pointed with her right hand to the cemetery and at last declared…

However, before uttering a word, Nicolai, like an instant miracle of prophecy that brought the light to the illuminated, he finally connected the dots. He launched a torrent of railing directed to his person and his short sight.

Why he didn’t discern Francis' actual intention of moving the cemetery behind the manor earlier, how could this minor yet crucial Intel escape his attention? It seemed that his fight with the butler took the sum of his focus more than he liked to admit.

The last word that he heard from Akila, she asked about his opinion. He asked, avoiding giving an answer and pretending to be yet clueless.

“If you know about what is lurking in the cemetery, why you didn’t move it in the contract?”

This is the second chance Akila had mentioned.

Such a craftiness and deceit. What she planted was the embodiment of the idiom killing two birds with one stone while adding a small flavor to the mixture.

The first hit, she had avoided a confrontation with the crimson lord and by doing so; she preserved the farm livestock and spared it from an immense material loss.

The second one. By pretending that she didn’t notice the purpose of the cemetery, she gave her enemy a false sense of security and control while keeping a gap in the contract to use it at the appropriate time.

The last flavor that she had added to the cake marking her signature; she will hide in shadow while collecting the information about to what extent the capacities of a pure Hématophage from the red Jasmine bloodline can get using Nicolai as a bait.

After a deep analysis of the situation, Nicolai manifested his initial consent: “Do you know that sapiens Hématophage or vampires as you prefer to call them, consider the Necromancy as shameful and only practiced by those who fail to perform or complete a sir bond.”

“So, that’s why you got yourself in his trap.” Akila's sobriety was explicit. She was in the working mode. Then she added: “Do not underestimate him. The truth, I was walking on eggshells all those past days. If I have failed to distinguish between the smell of natural death and the undead odor, I would never notice it. Do you know how hard it is to distinguish between them?”

She paused for a second before she asked him: "Do you know about it?"

"I just figured it now, I doubt I will figure it if I didn't have prior knowledge about his ability of Necromancy…

Akila looked angry and Nicolai felt that she was accusing him of not telling her, so he declared as a way to prove his innocence: "He has a backyard cemetery in his main residence. But only now I figured why he likes to have a cemetery in his backyard."

"Main residence? Then you were close friends? Why then he is torturing you?"

"More like a business associate, he was also one of my clients," Nicolai said, avoiding giving a clear answer.

Previously, Akila told herself that she didn’t care about Nicolai's other activities if it didn’t hamper her interest. But at present, the situation has changed. Perhaps she didn’t suffer a direct loss since she only transferred what was Nicolai shared to a new owner. Yet there is always possible future damage she needed to prevent.

She wished to dig deeper. However, this wasn't the best time to interrogate Nicolai, especially when she was in the process of recruiting his services.

“ You must have memorized the contract close by now, since you have figured out the gap I have placed there,” she said, changing the subject.

"What is that expected from me?"

"Since he controls your life for the resent, try to provide me with information about the social construction and the internal affair of Jasmine bloodline."

" Asking me to be your insider? It's a very hard job within a society full of mind control games and tricks."

Akila pondered: "That's why I found it very hard to get information from them, but a man like you, I am sure that he will find the way."

"What’s there for me in return?"

"You will get back all your shares."

Nicolai felt that he was a small pawn played by, however, have the power to move him around. How much he hated the feeling of being not the master of his fate.

She intended on using him as bait. And that's why he will try to get the most from this bargain: "That's not enough."

Akila smiled before she said: "I will search the world for a method to liberate you from this... What you call it... Limiting chains... Or whatever you want to call it."

He reflected weighing the pros and cons then he decided to go with Akila offer. But not without some kind of prior compensation. Thus he stated: "I will see what I can do, though there is a favor I want to ask from you, I wish that you can grant it."

"Of course, if I can. What it is?"

"At the present, I am more physically impotent than I ever was, therefore I wish that you grant me a replacement for Bi-an."

Akila’s eyebrows curved upward, the whites of her eyes got wider. She inquired: "Do you have one in mind?"

"Yes."

“Who could it be?” Akila asked as if she wasn’t so sure to where this was going on but didn’t want to interrupt him.

Her face was in fidget state when she heard him say: the informer that she had sent inside to the farm. She was taken aback and didn’t want that to appear on her face. She held some kind of ambiguous, understanding smile. Because she didn’t send any informer.


	51. Chapter Fifty-one : A riddle of the animation art

Savannah resolved to give Lord Shiva, some privacy to dress while taking the opportunity and have a private chat with her sister. The two of them walked to the chamber where Kanari used to stay as a guest. All the way Kanari didn’t waste a second complaining about lord Shiva's indecent conduct.

“Do you think he did it on purpose? Those demons are famous for being lascivious.” She whined. Savannah felt sorry for all the hearsay about demons that label all creatures in one group and sought to defend Lord Shiva honor: “I am sure it was an unintended accident.”

Kanari complained more: “How so? He appeared wearing that stupid goblin skin, then he only took it off when we were alone.”... She stopped before she said in suspicion rolling her eyes at her sister back: “He did it on purpose.”

Savannah sighed, she didn’t desire to argue on this stupid subject, because if things get deeper. Questions will rain on her like a plague, and she didn’t wish to implicate Kanari in her personal problems more than she already had. She claimed in fabricating consensus: “Ah, yeah, yeah. He is a big pervert.”

Kanari sensed the falseness in those words, her irritation shifted the target and landed on her sister's outline. She hurried to catch up to her then she blocked the way. Lips pursed on each other, a furrowed brow, Savannah asked: "What!" pretending to be clueless.

Kanari gave her a long discontented stare without uttering a word. She just turned around and moved forward unlocking the Chamber’s door. She signaled to her standing still sister to follow her…

Closing the door, Savannah remained oblivious to this strange, out of character behavior. Her eyes followed Kanari movements as she searched under the bed pillows until she pulled out a notebook. Swinging it left and right, she finally opened it. Turning a page after page before she revealed to Savannah a perfect white page.

Savannah looked at her in confusion, and before she could ask, Kanari stated: “It means that I have lost all connections with him.”

“Rokah?” Savannah demanded clarification.

“Who else.”

Another sigh escaped Savannah's chest, but this one was reflective rather than sarcastic. She sat on the bed and took the notebook in her hands, turning and skimming over the pages before she asked: “When does it start?”

“About three days ago, firstly it was a simple cut out, then suddenly the connection stopped at once.”

“From your point of view, what does that mean? Explain like I am five years old.”

“It means that his personality has developed to the point where he can make his own decision and ignore most of the unconscious orders that I will give him. It’s like having a free will to a certain degree.”

Savannah leaned her head to the floor and thought about Rokah's last action. He was the one behind the Chimera uproar after he exposed the tavern massacre. The same massacre she wanted to clean up in silence, so she could avoid getting in trouble with her mother.

She nodded with her head, then she said: “hmm, this caused me a few problems. Well, Isn’t that what we hoped for? Will your plan work?”

Kanari sat with her and answered: “Yes, but I think the development was rapid. Must be there something that induced it and I want to observe it for future reference. It also means that we don’t have much time left. I think you should release him.”

Savannah gazed into her sister's eyes: “This is it. Then I only need to track where he goes.” And Kanari reciprocated: "Yes. He will be your animated compass for a limited time, thus you need to act quickly."

Savannah rubbed her sister's head and said, her voice was a cluster of enthusiasm and joy: "Thank you Kanari you are a genius, I will make sure to bring you a present when I return." Then she stood up and walked to the door.

Because of her eagerness, Savannah didn’t notice her mother's presence outside the room, therefore when she opened the door all her energy exploded in her heart from the unexpected shock. A sensation resembled a heart attack.

“You are going to track whom?” Akila said in a low enraged tone as she wore the complexion of a judge going to enunciate his verdict.

“No one,” Kanari answered.

“The Chimera Magus, who helped the Count, I saw him fleeting,” Savannah said at the same time.

The two of them were out of synchronization, they are obviously lying. And Akila already had a notion regarding their little conspiracy -for some time now- but she didn’t tire herself in finding out what it could be until Mr. Hendrickson brought the informer issue. An informer who he thought that he was one of Akila's creations. It was how Akila concluded that this little conspiracy wasn’t actually a little conspiracy since it involves the art of animation. Thus, she articulated offering her anger an apparent resonance: "Who is this mysterious informer that you have sent prior to our arrival?"

The two girls found themselves cornered, they can’t lie anymore, the only option they were left with is, to tell the truth.

Savannah stepped forward before her sister began to spill all the truth, she still had a little hope in getting her mother to believe what she was going to say by stating just a part of the whole truth. Thereby, she started by defending her sister and excluding her from the interrogation: “It’s all my fault, Ma, Kanari had nothing to do with it. I forced her to help me.”

“No, mother…” Kanari protested she was trembling.

Akila's eyes moved between the two of them back and forth several times, then she said: “you better start explaining.”

Savannah placed her right hand behind her back and gestured to Kanari to keep quiet. After she brought a chair for her mother to sit on in an attempt to earn a few seconds to craft a perfect half-lie. When she felt ready, she finally said: “well… do you remember Bi-an? That stupid Hendrickson gets her destroyed.”

Her face displayed a hint of grief, actually, this grief wasn’t fake that’s why it passed her mother radar. Then she continued: “Because you didn’t give her to me, I was irritated and pestered Kanari to make one for me. That’s all.”

The sight of Akila glimmering eyes didn’t subside nor her anger dissipated, Savannah felt an immense pressure to say more.

“We borrowed one of your models, Kanari followed the instructions and animated it for my sake. I am the one who convinced her, if you desire to punish someone, then it is me.”

The silence reigned over the Chamber while Akila moved her eyes to see Kanari staring at the floor displaying a certain shame.

She stood up, her hand covering her face directing her word to Kanari:“ Did you understand the danger you have put yourself in, animating a humanoid personality is not just risky, is also depriving. How many times should I repeat this?" she paused, waiting for a reaction from Kanari and when her eyes never left the floor, she continued: "I bet that why your agility and sense of smell were reduced dramatically??"

The two girls seemed shocked because they didn't pay attention to this risky change. They looked at each other in horror while their mother shouted. "You must stop the process now, where is the programming support?" then spotted the notebook in Savannah's hand. Akila threatened in an angry tone after she snatched it away: “I will deal with the both of you later when we return home. You better not cause more trouble.”

“ Oh, my head…” Akila whined as she shut the notebook, and she left the chamber leaving the two sisters alone.

Savannah cut off the gloomy stillness: "Thank god, we are saved for now.” She looked at her sister and asked her: "Are you feeling good? Are mother exaggerating about your agility and sense of smell?"

Kanari followed up “I feel a bit tired, I will be better since the connection was severed, but I am dead if she found out that this isn’t the standard conventional animation.”

“We will be both dead if she found out the whole truth, that’s why, we need to make sure that she will never find out, maybe till the next hundred years.”

A kind of panic atmosphere saturated the room, each one of the sisters worked her brain for a solution until Kanari put her thoughts in question: “who do you think told her about him?”

“Who else but Hendrickson.”

“Didn’t you say that he is nearly blind?”

“He didn’t use his foresight, he probably made direct contact with him.”

Savannah's statement wasn’t on a whim, she formulated this theory the last time she gave Rokah a quick visit. Particularly after she picked up the smell of fumes of burned papers. However, her assumption was vague and not backed up with strong evidence. As yet everything fell into its corresponding place. And the big picture of the last events presented itself.

Rokah used the Chimera uproar as a decoy to sneak inside the manor and met Hendrickson. He helped the latter to burn the remaining contracts of the Magus and obtain the name register, that was why the barrier got destroyed days before the due date.

“He is so intelligent, is that what Kanari had meant by having a free will?” Savannah murmured into her heart.

“But, the unanswered question is: in exchange for what? Rokah granted all this priceless service to Hendrickson.”

Savannah thought that she must award Mr. Hendrickson a visit before her mother will talk to him a second time.

She addressed her sister inquired about her schedule “What are you going to do?”

“I should deliver the token of passage to the Count.”

“Good, do it then. And leave this problem for me.”

“What do you mean…, what are you going to do?” Savannah was at the door when she heard Kanari question. Nevertheless, she offered her a quick hint: “I need to meet Hendrickson before Mother.”

Fanart 01

The picture above shows a Crocotta, a mix breed between a wolf and a striped hyena with two horns.

The form of the Crocotta has yet to be described in the story, but this picture does the hard work. It also explains why the characters (Crocotta shape-shifters) in the story have dark skin. Their fur is white with dark stripes.

In the story, they are a matriarchal society, territorial and live in clan united by the same ancestor.


	52. Chapter Fifty-two : A hint at a secret intention

Finding Hendrickson in this big manor wasn't a difficult task for Savannah. Having a reasonable talk with him was the hardest part. That greedy sly will certainly find a way and benefit from her misfortune, as much as he could, exactly the same way he did every time.

She was thinking about how she was supposed to start her request without making herself vulnerable to his attacks. Their last discourse wasn't friendly, even when she was genuine in her concern about his physical state.

She pitied him when she saw his degraded state and figured out what happened, to the point where she was going to fulfill any demand he was going to ask for. Well, After all, Savannah was grateful for the help he offered to their little family years ago and still aiming to help him despite the divergence in her and his viewpoints as well as the way they like to accomplish things.

However, he returned her pity by diverting the conversation to an unpleasant subject while preying into her personal choices and the relationship with her mother.

When she stood before his chamber holding the door handle, rolling it down, she stopped at the last minute after a flash of thought reminded her that Nicolai is the old-fashioned aristocrat who always expected others to follow his habits. And certainly, he didn’t like someone to enter his private place without permission.

Savannah murmured: “it’s alright, you can take things your way since I am the one who is going to ask for your assistance.” By all means, she was going to do the exact opposite of what he liked in other circumstances.

She straightened her back as well as her neck, shin bending forward, trying to mimic a butler from an aristocratic household. Joining her right hand behind her back as she brought the back of her other hand knocking lightly as if she was from the fragile upper class.

One tap, then two, then three… Yet, no one has answered. And she was certain that he was inside.

She pressed her lips together fully after she swallowed spittle then tried again but with extra force. Her patience was drained when she didn’t receive a quick response, thus she swung the door open.

The Chamber was dark, filled with the fainted jasmine fragrance. Unusually, Savannah noticed after she stepped inside the disarranged bed covers, the misplaced black coat, even boots were thrown in the middle of the floor.

Nicolai Hendrickson, the most organized man she had ever known, he surpassed even her dear uncle, he was only comparable to the Crocotta women that were well-known with their extra arranging tendency for every item no matter how small it was.

He is now living in a mess.

Savannah commented between her lips: “His mental condition has finally reached the bottom. All that high and mighty attitude has been just for show. Uh-oh, he really hates others to see his vulnerable side.”

Between the folds of the obscurity, her pale yellow eyes glimmered and her head leaned toward the small wooden door at the corner. Its handle moves up and down before a long shadow emerged from its slit.

A silky long black hair scattered on his shoulders and drops of clear water trilled on his wet face. He excellently hid his startle when his eyes noticed the glimmering light of the pale yellow color.

He threw at her an intense look of reproach before the hand of pain molded his visage. When the pain became unbearable, he lifted his hand and pressed his thumb and index fingers on his eyelids, then said while he was trying to surpass this pain: "It’s not decent to get into someone's private room without his permission. It is even worse for honorable young...”

“Said the man who picks on others without their knowledge.” She sated refusing to let him finish his sentence.

Unfortunately, Nicolai was in bad shape otherwise he would enjoy this altercation. He dutifully admitted he was lost and walked to the nightstand. He took from the drawer a small glass bottle the size of his hand, it was half-filled with a crimson thick liquid. When he opened it and poured a couple of crimson drops into the water glass; a vivid intense fragrance leaped to Savannah's sensitive nose.

It was the scent of jasmine, but unlike the scent of the jasmine that arose from Hendrickson. This scent was powerful and condensed, thick and heavy, to a degree where Savannah felt a bitter taste stuck in her mouth. Contrary to Nicolai's jasmine smell that gave the impression of someone disappearing on the horizon.

In one mouthful, Nicolai drank all the water mixed with drops of the crimson liquid, Next, he sat on the bed, his face covered by his palms and with a weak voice he asked: “For what reason the black star came to see me?”

Savannah took a deep breath, trying to give her voice a flavor of seriousness and discontent: "What, other than our accord, I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it in our last meeting because I feared that my mother will overhear us.” She took a brief recess, filling her lungs with the air again, then she continued: “Don’t tell me that you have forgotten that, you still didn't honor your part of the commission and here you are creating new problems for us.”

Nicolai tried to understand what Savannah's comment was hinting at, then the outline of the Aratcanthrope from his recent vision flashed in his memory and made him recall the fact that this man was still alive.

He comprehended that Savannah must have encountered him inside the farm, that’s why she hinted at the story of the half-successful Mt Ninurta operation. After catching the cord tip, Nicolai's memory regurgitated the entire events that led him to trap the Aratcanthrope on this farm and the reason behind it.

He also remembered his request from Savannah in exchange that he won’t disclose her secret intention to her mother. However, this scheming was something from the past, when he was in his finest condition. But, today, things have reformed, the power balances have changed and Nicolai's goals have shifted with it. Hence, he stated pretending to not understand what she was implying: “Are you talking about the albino informer you have sent to this farm, rest assured, I plead to your mother to give him to me, but I was rejected.”

The displeasure reflected on Savannah's eyebrows despite her attempt to conceal it. Her tactic to initially blame him for being incompetent in order to minimize his agility before getting to the main point failed. Nicolai without being aware made her feel like an open book, and she wondered if he had figured everything.

Yet, in the end, she was right, the one who was the reason behind her mother finding out about Kanari animated piece was him.

In an attempt to obscure her reaction, she walked toward the window seeking to open its curtains, she stopped at the last second after she recalled that impure vampires can’t support the strong sunlight for more than a few minutes. Those were rumors that she overheard in one of her missions and there will be no harm in confirming them.

With one hand she held the curtains as she shifted her head in the direction of Nicolai, beholding his response.

Savannah's lips formed an upside-down smile…

Nicolai's reaction was boring like always, like in all the matters that concerned his life and death.

A person who doesn’t feel the fine line that separates life and death, there is no point in threatening him by death. Better humiliating him or restricting his freedom, this noble vampire Count is really known what he is doing. No surprise her mother lady Akila chose to taste the waters better than launching a direct blind attack.

At last, Nicolai declared: “There is no reason to retaliate against me like this, I know that you are still mad at me regarding the matter of Bi-an…”

“I am mad at you because of a lot of things.” Savannah interrupted him, questioning his objective, did his insensibility against death decreased, or he was telling her what she wanted to hear?

Whatever, this was not what Savannah has come to explore.

Glancing outside between the gaps of curtains, she looked at the clouds to calm herself and focus on her true objective…

Nicolai just admitted that he had met Rokah, the questions were: when, where, and how they met? How could Nicolai convince Rokah to work for him and did this meeting relate to Rokah's personality accelerated development and caused Kanari signal to be lost?

Savannah's problem was; how she was going to get an honest answer to all of her inquiries from Nicolai without arousing his doubt about the state of ignorance of her mother about Rokah's true identity. Well, there is always the possibility of cutting his throat if nothing will work to silence him.

She gambled: "So you have personally met him? What do you think?"

“You know, I am your mother's biggest fan in what it regards the art of animation.”

Savannah lips curved as she was adjusting the curtains so no drop of sunray could infiltrate the room, she asked herself about what would be Nicolai's reaction if he found out that Kanari was the real animator of Rokah. She was sure that his reaction will not be dull as earlier.

She looked at him and said: "You answered, but you didn’t respond to the nature of my question.”

He lifted his head towards her, following her steps, and opened his tired eyes, he clearly understood what she was hinting at, thus he said: “What? Are you going to give him to me if we sat and discussed the complexity of his personality as if he was alive?”


	53. Chapter Fifty-three : A permit of passage

Frowns constructed on Savannah's forehead, Mr. Hendrickson was trying to bargain with her. For what? For mere words.

She decided to play along with him and tested: "Maybe I will lend him to you, temporally."

It was astonishing for her to uphold the hope, lighting Nicolai's dark eyes when he inquired with eagerness: "Really?"

Right now, Savannah was one hundred percent convinced that Nicolai considered himself in a dire situation, and he was in extreme need to have someone whom he could depend on after he lost Bi-an.

Savannah wasn't the kind of person who found joy in bulling the weak. However, for someone like Nicolai that have fallen from the grace of power, playing with his pride a little was exceedingly tempting. What a rare sight to uphold someone in Mr. Hendrickson's status at his lowest.

Both, her sadistic side as well as her benevolent heart fought against each other to win the battle to determine which desire is going to get fulfilled.

"It depends on to what extent you will be honest with our talk, moreover, I will be the judge who will rule the extent of your sincerity." Those conditions she had set were quite partial, she didn't aim for him to accept, she just wanted to rule the degree of his despair.

A sigh coming from him ripped her thoughts. A second of silence followed. She was certain when he opened his mouth that he was going to protest against those unfair conditions.

"He thought I was going to kill myself." Those were Nicolai words, he added clarifying: "The first time we met."

A sound of shattered glass, Savannah listened to Nicolai's unexpected answer as her heart broke. It brought back her memory of that day, her feeling was the same when she received the painting of her portrait. The moment she lifted its white cover. The moment she saw herself depicted in that damn painting. On her knees, her face of the soil, hidden by her untidy short hair. Eyes drowned in shadow. Beside her was a big scythe, the symbol of soul eaters. Remains and bones of living beings scattered around her in what it seemed a dark forest with leafless trees. Ash sheathed the air, It was like there was a big fire but without the flames.

The drawing in the painting depicted her holding a long sword with a glimmering blade, she was piercing her own chest with it, till the blade came out from her back, red blood issued from the wound and tainted the glimmering of the blade that emerged from her back. Despite her face was hidden, her blood-stained hands pulling the handle of the sword in what it seemed like agony.

Savannah said rectifying her distraction: "Excuse me...!" This isn't enjoyable as she hoped.

"He thought that I am going to kill myself, and everything started from that moment." Nicolai repeated before he continued: "That's why I started to observe him, then I planned to meet him again, making it looks like a coincidence."

Nicolai waited for Savannah to interfere with scornful remarks and when she didn't he continued: "He is very smart, his ability to learn and connect the events with a logical pattern is impressive. But what I couldn't understand why Lady Akila programmed him on a false reality, to believe that he was some kind of mongrel?"

Savannah wasn't actually listening to the rest of Mr. Hendrickson's words. Her ears stopped receiving the sound at the two words "Killing myself". She was imprisoned at the moment when she lifted the cover on that portrait that she received.

She observed Nicolai's sorry state and wanted to participate in the conversation, so she could eliminate that cursed painting from her present memory: "Were you going to kill yourself?", she aimed to infuse her words with taunt as much as she could. However, she didn't expect that her question was like throwing a stone in a stagnant pond, and she didn't expect that the stone had touched something in the bottom of the pond. Only when Nicolai reply was late, she understood that her stone has shaken the stagnant pond from its depth.

"I don't know..." Nicolai said.

To the hell to this honest answer, Savannah cursed in her heart. And that painting with all the emotion that it stirred, resurfaced from the ocean of her memories, before she attempted to flee from it, a second time: "How did you convince him to help you?"

"I simply told him the truth." After giving this answer, Mr. Hendrickson closely observed Savannah's reaction. Using his high perception, he caught the discontent that appeared on her face for a split of a second.

She repeated behind: "You told him the truth?" thinking about her sister's earlier talk.

"Of course, only that part of the truth that serves my interests."

It seems that Savannah's eeriness and doubts about Mr. Hendrickson were spoiling her and her sister's hard labor were in place, thus she worked her mind quickly for a mid settlement that will fulfill her desire before her mother could get wind of her plans. At the same time, she must keep Mr. Hendrickson from interfering or getting the full picture of the situation, so he won't use it to his advantage and blackmail her like every other time.

***

On the other hand, Kanari had just finished writing four copies of a testimony that allow its holder a special permit to pass through the Crocotta territory for a fixed time. Before she put the pen in the inkwell, she numerated in a low voice: "A permit for the Count as it was agreed upon. A permit for Savannah to give it to Rokah."

She looked at the two other permits that her sister demanded to write for her and wondered, for whom she was going to give to?

Once she pondered on the matter, she deduced that maybe the third permit was for the Amarok, to get him safely out of the Crocotta territory.

In Kanari understanding, she thought that the fact that he was illegally trespassing the Crocotta clan territory was enough to justify his death was enough, forgetting all about the control committee and investigation team.

After much effort from Savannah, Kanari finally was persuaded by her sister's logic.

It was better to get that Amarok killed outside their territory, so when someone will discover his body, it won't cause the internal pressure on her mother to become more suffocating.

It's true that this Amarok is nobody, he didn't belong to any clan or alliance, there will be no one who will investigate his death or reclaim his blood. Though, if his dead body will be discovered in the Crocotta territory, a dozen hypocrites and enemies will open their filthy mouths to cause trouble for her mother. Kanari will not give them this kind of opportunity.

Even so, the question about the fourth permit and to whom Savannah is going to give it is still standing without explanation. No matter how much Kanari squeezed out her brain for an answer, she didn't come with a name.

The fire of doubts began to flare inside Kanari. She sensed that Savannah must be hiding something from her. Kanari didn't forget her sister's scornful reply when she asked her about the reason that made her late when they have entered the farm.

Did Savannah meet someone during her quick scouting tour? If she was planning to give him a permit, does that mean that she has some kind of agreement with him?

If her suspicions were true, then who is it? Why she didn't tell her? Aren't they supposed to be a team?

Kanari hurried to extinguish the flames that roared inside her before the doubt eat up all her trust. She decided to face her sister and ask her directly about this matter when the time will allow.

She took the necklace around her neck and removed the cover from the isotoxal octagram seal, the official Crocotta seal, she apologized before she used it: "Sorry mother, you have interested the seal to me and here I am wasting your trust. But please, believe me, it's all for the sake to correct Savannah mistake... Stupid mistake."

When she finished, she put one of the permits inside a locker and saved the other three in her personal briefcase.

Acting like someone with a clear conscience, she found her path to the staircase to get to the main hall, where she thought she would find her mother, admiring the ceramic works and the decoration.

The corridors were calm. Occasionally, a sleeping Chimera appeared on her way, she tactfully passed through them, careful not to touch them or the spell won't hold for long. At the same time, feeling a huge recognition for Lord Shiva's high precaution. She secretly admitted that Shiva's plan of linking the sleeping spell with the name register was clever. Because of it, they have avoided a lot of problems that could arise if the Chimeras are still awake. Perhaps, if it wasn't for this spell, the Count had used them to cause few problems like the chaos that was not a while ago.

Recalling Lord Shiva, his image popped into her head, precisely when he was undressed, trying to cover his nakedness with his big wings. Her face turned blood-red, she even used her hands to cover her eyes while repeating in a murmur: "I didn't see anything on purpose, I didn't see anything on purpose."

Once she got near the main hall, she stopped walking when she heard the echoes of two persons chattering. Focusing on the emitted voices, she identified that one of the speakers was her mother and the other one belongs to...

Again, Kanari's face turned blood-red.


	54. Chapter Fifty-four : A meal with a fresh meat

Kanari approached the entrance of the main hall, her steps were as silent as an assassin. She wanted to be certain of her perception.  
  
Two people were sitting around a small coffee table and talking. The air between them gave the impression of seriousness. Kanari quickly tucked away, afraid to be discovered by one of them. She concealed her breath while pondering about how she is going to face Lord Shiva after what had happened.  
  
She stayed near the entrance, fighting her shyness and gathering all her boldness to go inside. In the end, she resigned to eavesdrop on their conversation, not for the sake of eavesdropping, but for seizing the perfect moment to walk in.  
  
" So that's what has happened. When the market supply stopped, I really got frustrated." Lord Shiva said.  
  
"No, that's what I think has happened," Lady Akila clarified: "My brother also got frustrated when the supply stopped. However, this is just my deduction of the situation. We still need to get Nicolai to tell us about what exactly has happened to him and how he lost the farm."  
  
Shiva took a sip of the coffee before he asked: "What is your first impression of our new distributor? Indeed, I do not have much experience in dealing with those kinds of creatures, but I have heard some hearsay about them. Like their ability to turns others into a degraded version of their race."  
  
"Mm, Nicolai likes to call them Hématophage." She paused: "Polymorph..., Lycanthrope..., Anthropomorphic.... To be honest, I hate this nomenclature so much. Us, we like to call them; Vampires."  
  
About Lord Shiva's first question, Akila thought a little before she answered: "The truth, that man didn't show any direct aberrant behavior toward us, he seemed only satisfied about taking what it's belonged to Nicolai, anything more, it looked like a bonus for him... I think he was acting on a personal grudge between him and Nicolai."  
  
Lord Shiva stretched his wings horizontally to his back, careful not to hit anything: "Aha, Nicolai, sometimes I feel Like draining all his soul."  
  
"Or eating him alive." Akila reciprocated while reflecting on the little trick that she used on him and Kanari earlier, and thought that he would also want to drain all her life force if he found out that she did it on purpose.  
  
Akila said with a hint of amusement in her voice: "I was monitoring the whole manor while Savannah was inspecting the farm, I can say with a certain degree of confidence that the Count didn't tamper with the overall function of the farm. Most likely, the one who was playing in the field was that Chimera dealer of yours."  
  
Akila took the chance and hinted at the disagreement that happened between her and Lord Shiva and Mr. Hendrickson not long ago about letting a Chimera magus managing a Chimera farm. Though, her voice took a serious tone as she continued: "However, I have made an interesting... Rather a dangerous discovery."  
  
"And?" Lord Shiva eye's shined a light of curiosity.  
  
"He changed the place of the cemetery in the backyard." She replied giving a touch of mystery; "It is packed with hordes of undead. No wonder, vampires are known to be the masters of Necromancy."  
  
"And you gave him Nicolai shares?"  
  
"Don't rush your judgment. I will get you a copy of the terms and conditions we have set, first." Akila brought her coffee cup towards her lips; the intoxicating aroma tingled her nose, over it, she detected Kanari Cinnamon fragrance. She took a sip, then added: "There is something else I want you to be informed with."  
  
Lord Shiva pulled back his wings around his body and listened with attention.  
  
"In the light of these inconvenient events, the managing position for this farm will be empty, thus I decided to appoint Kanari to this position."  
  
Shiva's eyes failed to cover his delight, he believed this to be; Lady Akila's ultimate goal of the conversation. She wanted to appoint this position to one of her children for some time now, in hope for them to gain some experience, as she declared before.  
  
But since he and Mr. Hendrickson opposed her, she couldn't have what she wanted. They thought that it was an obvious ploy for her to get more control over this farm. However, bringing this matter at present put Lord Shiva in a tight spot. Refusing her proposal was hard. One, because his dealer is now fleeing which affirms his treachery. Secondly, Hendrickson has been neutralized, and his opinion won't count.  
  
What a scary woman, No wonder Mt. Ninurta fell into her grasp, despite the high competition.  
  
Lord Shiva, to hide his displeasure, he pretended that he didn't know who was Kanari, It gave Akila a chance to highlight what already has happened: "My younger daughter, she was with you when you were trapped in the goblin skin."  
  
Shiva swallowed his saliva, almost choked on it. Remembering the young lady's face and scream. She must think of him as a big pervert. How he is going to look her in the eyes, nevertheless working with her. He asked in frustration: "Why not Savannah?"  
  
Akila enjoyed his reaction; her plan to make Shiva temporarily wary of Kanari presence was a success. Surely he will need some time to adjust before he will be able to directly confront Kanari. More likely, he will manage his demands through her first. And this will give Kanari more time to learn and adapt to her new responsibilities.  
  
She answered: "So, Savannah didn't tell you?"  
  
"Tells me what?"  
  
"She declined the offer... For reasons unknown to me." Akila's voice held a deep concern while her mind drifted away. She wouldn't want to refuge to this kind of cheap trick if Savannah didn't put her against the reality of refusal by giving a half-used logical justification. Things keep going the other way of Akila's will.  
  
Lady Akila fed up waiting for Kanari to come in, she gulped the coffee in her cup before she stood and informed Lord Shiva: "The spell activated by Nicolai made the Chimeras fell into slumber; I need to prepare the dinner, or we will starve. Please take your time to rest; I know your trip is long and tiring."  
  
"There is no one who will take care of my Hippogriffs?"  
  
"Don't worry, I have instructed Savannah to do so." Then she retreated, leaving Lord Shiva stretching his body like someone who was kept in a closed small space. And when she got to was Kanari being standing she asked her:  
  
"Why didn't you come in?"  
  
The young lady avoided making eye contact with her mother and responded with a barely hearable voice: "What are we going to prepare for dinner?"  
  
It was at this moment that Lady Akila understood the side effect of her trick, she had made Kanari wary of lord Shiva as much as he was of her daughter. She said without being a nitpicker: "I do not know, It depends on what we will find. But certainly, we will have some meat."  
  
"Great, finally, we are going to have a decent meal."  
  
***  
  
Along the road to the kitchen, the pair was silent in a none good way. Kanari was thinking about how she evaded her mother's question and why the latter didn't scold her. While Lady Akila was thinking about Savannah's late strange behavior.  
  
When they arrived at a crossroads, Kanari took a wrong detour; she didn't notice until her mother dragged her from her clothes.  
  
"The kitchen in the other direction."  
  
Kanari looked at her mother with innocent eyes, while her ears captured her objurgating words:  
  
"I have realized lately that your reaction time has become slow. Your agility has decreased. Even your sense of smell is in disarray."  
  
Kanari didn't object, neither she had observed those changes in herself. But, her mother has yet to stop: "At first, I thought you were just nervous, but, it seemed that those symptoms were related to the humanoid animation you were programming behind my back."  
  
"You took my notebook, there is nothing that connected me with him." At last, Kanari snapped.  
  
Her mother had given her a meaningful look before she said: "You and Savannah are in big trouble when we return home."  
  
The kitchen was on the subsoil floor, there were Chimeras that have the head and legs of a goat. They were in deep sleep. Some were on the ground, others passed on the seats.  
  
Lady Akila looked around, thinking about what she could prepare, her eyes stopped moving when she found the kitchen knives. A quick look between the sleeping Chimeras and the sharp knives, Lady Akila believed that the dinner won't be considered a good dinner without fresh meat.


	55. Chapter Fifty-five : A thirst for details

Savannah was filling a bucket from the well after she unharnessed the Hippogriffs and marched them to where she remembered was the place of the horse stable. On her face, there was a solemn shade, undefined and serious, the whole time while she was working the manual pump.  
She was expecting, Lord Shiva visiting her sooner rather than later... And she knew exactly what he was going to complain about...  
  
Too bad for her withering wish that her mother will keep him busy for as long as she can.  
Letting the Hippogriffs quenching their thirst, Savannah looked behind her back, confirming the identity of the individual who just arrived, after their eyes met for a flinch of a second, she looked back preparing herself for the upcoming interaction.  
  
"Well, well, well..."  
  
She heard his voice echoing as he worked his mouth, giving his greetings, the tone of his words seemed to her, inquisitive.  
  
It resonated in the stable and made the Hippogriffs protest for disturbing the atmosphere.  
  
But before he could start, she quickly declared attempting to take control over the flow of the conversation:  
  
"I know exactly what you want to ask for, but…"  
  
However, she paused the moment she saw his index finger on his lips, signaling to her that she needed to keep silent.  
  
Without a further attempt, Savannah observed Lord Shiva as he examined the surrounding place, looking from the corner of his eyes as if he was making sure that they were sheltered from the ears of an outside intruder.  
  
She mimicked his way of observation, focusing her concentration on looking at the periphery of her visual field while regulating her breath to be calmer and more harmonious. Little by little she began to see a small and dense air filament, rolling in spirals then crawling like worms then again rolling... After a bit of time, she also began to hear whispers, words... When her senses became more focused to decipher the voice and the meaning, her heart danced at the cadence of horror.  
  
Those are the Whispering spirits of the wind.  
  
Odorless, diaphanous, they give the sensation of cold when they touch the skin, and they repeat every word they hear using the same tone and voice of its speaker.  
  
They only can be seen through the peripheral vision while the viewer is in complete internal tranquility and external quietness.  
  
She tried to calm her disturbed state and glance at Lord Shiva who quietly nodded with his head then he said:  
  
"We should move to a place where we feel the wind when it is blowing."  
And since they were standing at the entrance of the stable, they found it quicker to move inside it.  
  
Savannah was somehow stupefied if Lord Shiva is still under surveillance than the black Colubrine dragon affair has yet to be considered sealed. And her mother still under judgment.  
  
"By the way, why had you come to the farm before we gave you the signal?"  
Savannah said, keeping her cool and trying to distract herself by not asking about the surveillance.  
  
"The barrier was nullified." Shiva was carefully choosing a clean spot between the droppings of animals and the unconscious Chimeras to put his foot in, "I couldn't wait to meet the person who succeeded in outsmarting Nicolai. The great seer with the legendary three pairs of eyes." He finally stood still when he thought that he found a good spot." Aren't you curious?" He threw a crafty look at her.  
  
Savannah concluded that Lord Shiva also didn't want to talk about why he is still under surveillance for the time being, and that scorched her curiosity. But she preferred that she kept this story for another time.  
  
"I assume that you have yet to tell your mother about your big decision?"  
Shiva's words brought Savannah wandering mind back. She cursed in her carelessness. How she could let him take control of the conversation and allowing him the opportunity to interrogate her. She responded, making her tone less harsh as much as she could.  
  
"I hope your mouth didn't slip up and broke ours sincerity pledge…"  
  
"I am very amazed, is that all you fear the most?"  
"Yes, one of my biggest fears is to break my mother's heart." Savannah raised her arms for emphasis. "And your decision surely will break her heart." Shiva teased: "It's just a matter of time."  
  
"Exactly, a matter of time, she will be more furious at me than be broken-hearted when the times come."  
  
Lord Shiva gave Savannah a long gaze that expressed his thoughts as the following ~ I don't get your logic.  
  
He flapped his wings that were resting on his body like a cloak, signaling that he is going to drop this subject. This sudden movement made the Hippogriffs protest again, but Shiva ignored them and vocalized his perception:  
  
"Hmm, compared to the last time, I have seen you? You look... Mm."  
  
"Manlier," Savannah replied using Mr. Hendrickson's earlier description of her.  
  
"Why Aren't you using the opal circlet" Shiva wondered casually: "What's the point, having to spend months begging me so you could borrow it while not using it."  
  
"It was extremely expensive considering I only just borrowed it..." Savannah dodged, avoiding the main subject, she was avoiding to look directly in lord Shiva direction.  
  
"Believe me, this pledge and the little price you have paid are nothing considering the efforts I have spent and the risks I have overtaken to get it for you. It disappoints me that you are not using it."  
  
"Huh, little price? You took all my savings." Another attempt from Savannah to diverge from the main subject.  
  
"Really, Should I make you remember where you have been spending your so-called saving?" Lord Shiva pointed with his finger up and when he didn't hear Savannah protest, he continued: "Remember, you borrow it, You should take care of it. I will be the one bearing the consequence if you break it..."  
  
Then the conversation awkwardly stopped as Shiva made the face of someone who had realized a very important matter but too late.  
  
Lord Shiva knows exactly why Savannah asked him to get this type of mystical jewelry and of course, it was not for the purpose of decoration. So, there is no way Savannah will not use the opal circlet that she has spent a ton of money and sweat to get it.  
  
Lord Shiva said while stuttering; "You... You... Don't tell me you have broken it?"  
His breath pulse continued slowly, one of the Hippogriff snorted and Savannah's tongue was virtually shopped.  
  
She couldn't lie to him because of the sincerity pledge, neither she had the courage to tell him the truth. His arrival was really early. She just needed a few days...  
  
The scene of her taking this pledge in the exchange of the circlet flashed before her eyes, like a sequence of an old film. Back then, she only wanted to get what she needed, and she didn't think deeply about the consequences. On the contrary, at that time, she thought that it was such a low price for such a rare and expensive item.  
  
Answering Lord Shiva questions with sincerity, this was her pledge as long as the circlet is in her possession.  
  
How it didn't cross her mind the terrifying reality to leave without the ability to lie, despite her own existence was all based on deception. She answered after a long silence: "No, I didn't break it."  
"Then where is it?"  
  
***  
When Isidore's patience run out while waiting for the Crocotta young warrior, and he perceived that the immense body of the black wolf started to wake up. He decided to rely on his limited knowledge of herbalism and find a way to make this giant either return to his humanoid form or at least shrink his body to the size of the wolf animal.  
  
The reason behind Isidore's strange behavior of protecting this Amarok's life as long as he could. It was because he thought that this wolf holds the answers to his questions about the real identity of the doctor, he took care of him as well as to find about the Crocotta clan plan by sending Rokah into this village. Plus another bunch of questions that are torturing his mind.  
  
Getting back to his cottage, Isidore was searching for something that could surpass the Amarok transformation, or at least would shrink his gigantic body.  
  
When he was absorbed in his search, a racket outside brought his concentration and stopped his movement.  
  
Here, inside the forest, the plants somehow worked as an insulator. Rarely an external noise can penetrate this thick layer of isolation unless this sound came from inside the forest. That's why, at first, he thought the Amarok was changing the position of his body, or worst finally waking up. But as the seconds flew by and the steady stream of the noise made Isidore change his first thought.

This was the noise of a horse carriage moving at a fast speed as if it was running from something.  
Isidore pondered a little on it and remembered that only the lord of the village has and can use a horse carriage.

  
With this specific idea, Isidore marched out of his cottage towards the direction of the sound. He first checked the Amarok condition and confirmed that he is still in his slumber, then he raced to his aim. Unknown to his person that the Amarok had opened his eyes the moment Isidore's sturdy body vanished between the branches of the forest.

  
Approaching carefully towards the main passage, the obstacles; stones, falling branches, and mire have lessened and made Isidore's fears of being discovered by whoever was taking the carriage grow.  
Climbing into a tree wasn't, also something he could do, he really wished that he could control his weight like that of a Crocotta creature. That warrior probably weighs as much as he does.


	56. Chapter Fifty-six : A torrent of ideas

A carriage appeared from afar, drawn by two horses. They were being struck to run as fast as their hooves could carry them.

The first question Isidore had asked himself was about what a carriage from the main house is doing in the forest? In his memory, this unusual matter caused him to remember the youthful doll-like maid whom he sighted her wandering in this range, not long ago.

Moving ahead of the suspicious carriage, he chose a large tree trunk with a lot of snow around it, and he laid on his belly, so he wouldn't be discovered.

The carriage had gotten near his position in the blink of an eye, and despite its speed, Isidore was able to spot not just the servant who was leading the horses but also he gained glimpses at the person who was inside.

He was the hairy Chimera..., the renowned magus of this village.

After the carriage passed, Isidore stood confused, examining what he just perceived. The magus of the main house... The one who controls the farm, he seemed as if he was fleeing with his personal servants from something.

Things really became unpredictable after the Crocotta clan's arrival...

A little time has passed, where Isidore still laying on his belly, lost in a sea of wonder. Subsequently, a load of snow falls on his head, engulfed him. He cleaned his eyes and looked upward to find the albino doctor on one of the highest branches. The latter stirred the branch again with his foot before he jumped to the other branch.

A load of snow completely buried Isidore, and when he wiped his eyes free, he only got a glimpse of Rokah's shadow as he followed the same path that the horse carriage took.

Dragging the sentiment of confusion and bewildering behind his back, Isidore returned to his place. All the way, he was submerged in his thought, digging for an explanation for what he just witnessed. But every time, he derived the same conclusion. The doctor appeared to be in the pursuit of the main house magus carriage.

Isidore blinked four more times when he saw the cottage from this distance. He pondered again, agitated, why he could see the cottage from this angle, where are the black fluffy ball that obstructed his vision?

In a moment of frenzy, he could only detect upon the melting snow, a trace of paws, enormous paws. What's more, they were in the same direction as the carriage. On the spot, the panic multiplied, only thinking about what he was going to say to the Crocotta lady?

He looked at the direction of the trail on the snow, determined to follow it. An Amarok nearly as tall as a tree, there is nowhere he could hide. And once more, to his bad luck, he noticed that the traces on the melting snow were getting smaller before it completely disappeared near the base of some a tree trunk.

He bobbed his head to look upward; his eyes wide open, his face was expressionless. A clearer word managed to escape his throat. "He had us fulled."

However, Isidore's mind didn't stop merely at this conclusion. He asked himself about the point this Amarok is made by this pointless escape?

Weren’t all of them trapped inside the boundaries of the village, that Amarok will never get out. It was worthier for him to wait for the grace of the Crocotta.

Isidore walked back into his cottage, not angry, but troubled about how he was going to convince the young lady that he didn't have betrayed her. Obviously to get the passage permit, his supreme priority.

Maybe he should inform her about the horse carriage and that Rokah was following it.

Wait a minute... A revelation...

Isn't Rokah serving the Crocotta?

Didn't the Crocotta come here to overcome the one who stole this farm from them?

Isn't that butler serving the Crocotta enemy? And Rokah is following him...

Isidore froze at the succession of these intertwined ideas that just popped into his head... Because they are leading to one concluding outcome. Did the Crocotta succeed in abolishing the barrier?  
Is that why the young lady was late? And the magus is fleeing... 

***  
In other hand, Lady Akila, as she was adding the final touches to dinner dishes, noticed the new unpleasant atmosphere between Savannah and Lord Shiva who looked like someone who has lost his fortune.

While she thought about it, another idea popped into her mind when she observed Kanari searching for plates, spoons, and eating tools. She asked disguising her true motive: "What are you doing?"  
"Preparing the table for dinner."  
"And what Savannah is doing?"

Kanari stopped her movement and revived the memory of Savannah running after Lord Shiva's back while kissing-up to him and the latter was neglecting her coldly.  
This scene was certainly not odd in Kanari's eyes, as she often witnessed her sister offending someone and after they get mad at her she tries to please them with sweet words. Thus, she didn't think much of it. She replied to her mother's inquiry brainlessly: "Nothing."

And it was Akila time to strike, she said with a fake severe tone: "What, that lazy parasite, always finding a way to shun from kitchen work. Put down what's in your hands and make her prepare the dinner table by herself."

"Mum..." Kanari protested: "I hate waiting, doing nothing."

Akila smiled in deceit and said: "Well, then, you can go and invite Mr. Hendrickson and Lord Shiva to dinner, of course, don't forget our new distributor. It's not from politeness to eat and other watches."

Kanari jaw dropped before she protested again: "Mother... I prefer setting the table."

" kanari!"

In the end, Kanari walked out of the kitchen dragging the disappointment with her, wondering how she was going to face those three men alone; one is perverted, one is devious and the last one she didn't know him.

But when she spotted Savannah, sitting on one chair and relaxing her legs on another, looking like she had surrendered on persuading Lord Shiva to whatever she had done or wanted from him.

An idea lighted the darkness in Kanari mind, she quickly ran to Savannah and briefed her after she kicked her legs away from the chair and proceeded to clean it: "Mum told me to tell you that you need to bring the dishes from the kitchen here, so I could prepare the table, and she also wanted you to invite the others for the dinner."

Savannah adjusted her position and laughed, her sister's schemes were always obvious, especially when she makes demands while avoiding eye contact: "Oh, please Kanari you are so bad at lying."

Kanari puffed her cheeks and took the permits of passage and fanned using them: "If you want those, you better do as I say."  
Savannah stood up, hissing: "What are you doing?" hands interlaced in the air. "Quick, hide them, what if our mother will see them." Savannah failed to snatch them, thus she resigned and said: "Okay, Okay, You are so good at convincing people."

When Akila saw Savannah at the entrance of the kitchen, she smiled to herself thinking that her plan to make Kanari braver at making contact has succeeded.

After finishing the first task, Savannah walked to the main hall, where she had left Lord Shiva sulking. Before she notified him about the dinner, she had thought about another way to ease his exasperation. Therefore, she walked towards him, whereas, he pretended that he didn't see her.

She didn't get discouraged and said: "Well, I am going to escort Mr. Hendrickson to the dining room."

Shiva still acted like she didn't exist and tucked his head in the papers he was reading.  
That also didn't discourage Savannah from continuing: "You didn't ask yourself why he didn't come to greet you."  
"Because he didn't respect me?" Shiva, at last, talked, even if his tone was angry.

"No, I didn't mean it like that." Savannah snatched a deep breath while commenting in her heart, Ah, Shiva is completely worse than Kanari when he is sulking, he is extremely hard to please.

She forced a smile on her lips joked: "Ah, please, don't take it so personally, Hendrickson doesn't respect anybody except for those who know how to slap him."

Shiva finally smiled, he pointed at the papers in his hands and followed: "Slap him very hard like your mother." He paused for a few seconds, then he inquired: "Don't tell me he is blackmailing you too?"

Savannah was pleased with her success: "Yes, I initially wanted to meet him for revenge, but who thought that he was so pathetic to the point that it made me forget my revenge."

Lord Shiva made a puzzled face, wondering what could have happened to Hendrickson that he needed to be escorted to the dining room. For this, he forgot his anger in favor of his curiosity, and he decided to go with Savannah.

Without knocking, Savannah forced the door of Hendrickson's room open when she heard the noise of something falling.

Behind the table, he lifted his hand waving and said: "I am good, I just slipped."

Savannah watched while Nicolai struggled to get up on his feet and when she grew weary of his pretense of being ok and felt enough compassion to aid him. She approached and helped him up.

Lord Shiva was at the door, his bat wings stashed his body like a cloak. Being a witness to this rare spectacle, His heart was actually pleased and his curiosity to meet the one who caused Nicolai to suffer this much ate his heart entirely.

There was no greeting between the two - Shiva and Nicolai-, just making eye-contact was extremely awkward.

Both Savannah and Shiva walked side by side behind Hendrickson, observing him limping and staggering. Every so often, they whispered into each other ears, theories about what could have happened to him.

When they get to the staircase, Savannah notified them:

"I will leave you now, gentlemen, there is a third person whom I need to invite for dinner."

Shiva watched Savannah back as she disappeared in the shadows of the next corridor before he moved his eyes toward Nicolai whom he started to descend the stairs. The latter appeared to be in much pain compared to when he was walking.

Shiva quickly caught up to him and extended his hand as he said: "Do you need some help?"


	57. Chapter Fifty-seven: A review on dinner etiquette

The Count opened the door to find a pair of pale yellow eyes piercing at him, lips twisted to form a predatory smile. A unique eyebrow and eyelashes. Francis was certain that he didn't have met this Crocotta before. An edgy frown wrinkled the inside of his throat, a consequence of controlling his outside look. Being neutral, calm was his secret weapon. Those mythical beasts sniff fear and charge when they discern it.

Witnessing the live proof, made him believe in what Nicolai told him before. The Crocotta always moves in groups, no wonder this place soon, will swarm with them. Francis smiled back, it was the courtesy type of smiles: "Yes?"

"I am here to invite you to dinner. " Savannah announced after making a slight bow like a butler, mimicking the etiquette of the pure-blood.

"...."

"You don't have the right to refuse. Our lady will never accept "no" for an answer." She enjoyed the silent reply, she considered the silence, an evidence of conquering.

Francis understood those kinds of formalities very well. He was surprised that those beasts showed it. He looked at the androgynous Crocotta in front of him and responded: "Very well, I shall accept the invitation."

" Then I shall escort you." grin never left her lips

The glow of doubt shined in Francis's eyes since it's not like he didn't know the way to the dining room. He suspected that this young Crocotta had an ulterior motive. "It will just take me a moment to be ready." In essence, he wanted to gain some time.

In contrary to what he said, Savannah waited for what seemed ages. And once the door was opened, the person who got out was as bright and polished as a gem. Hair is neatly groomed, clothes unparalleled, and of course, he didn't forget the accessories; a mechanical watch, a collar pin, cuff links, and certainly white gloves.

Savannah sighed in her heart, finding other connections. No wonder this man was Hendrickson's acquaintance.

But, then, the rumors she had collected about the noble vampires were true; most of them are classy, prefer the elegant, sophisticated style, and have a high taste for visual arts.  
A flash of insight of the decoration in the main hall made Savannah persuaded that it must be this man's taste in the art.

This man's taste in art was in more harmony with her mother and sister than of Nicolai.  
Oh, god, don't tell her that this is why those two - her mother and sister- tea-sets fans and ceramic items lovers easily gave him Nicolai shares.

Savannah nearly slapped her hand into her face in shame.

She slightly bowed again and referred with her hand to the direction of the staircase before she said: "Then shall we go?" Francis tracked her steps, he was drowning in suspicious. Furthermore, the fact that she was giving him her back without the barest hesitation made his doubts grow wilder. This reckless conduct only meant two things for him:

Either she believes that he would never attempt to attack her because the Crocotta has formed some kind of alliance with him, or she is awfully confident in her abilities.  
Just because there is two more other Crocottas downstairs, she may be thought that he would never dare to attack her.

Francis' heart relaxed at those thoughts, he even smiled, because, it looks like those barbaric beasts still the same, even if they imitated the etiquette and formalities of the sophisticated race. They will never learn the lesson. Sometimes, some attacks cause damage worse than physical ones.

What he should do? Compel her, hypnotize her. Regardless, it will be a nice try to stir his rusty faculties as well as to collect information.

When he saw her steps slow down, he changed his amused face expression to a neutral one.

"What should I call you?" She asked him, her tone carried the friendliness touch. Forthwith, Francis decided to make his name the incentive to the hypnosis. He replied: "You don't need to be formal, my name is Francis Leal Di Montez, the Count of Di Montez."

" Mr. Franz..." Savannah proceeded to reiterate his long name but before she finished, he interrupted her at once, being gentle and horrified: "And you?" Somehow, he was certain that she won't pronounce his name correctly. It always pains his ears when someone butchered the pronunciation of his precious name. Perhaps, he will use another word for inciting the hypnosis.

"Savannah."

He noticed her getting closer, till they walked side by side. Soon, her formal display dropped as well as she conducted herself in a friendlier manner when she asked him: "So, what have happened between you and Nicolai?"

The Count didn't fancy this personal question, yet he found it useful to incite the hypnosis...  
" Well, not much, we were business associates." He glanced at her before he continued: "We have disagreements in handling things..."

" Hmm, really?" She murmured, sounding not persuaded: "Do you destroy people's lives just for disagreements?"

"Aren't you doing the same, destroying the lives of those mongrels?"  
Savannah's eyes strayed towards the ceiling, reflecting a little before she answered: "Those Chimeras are our food, and life is simple; either you eat or you died. Besides, they are not our associates. If you have killed Nicolai for the sake of survival, this question will never cross my mind." Savannah agreed with her mother's opinion that this man did what he did to Mr. Hendrickson was in pursuit of satisfying his grudge.

" Then you love to torture your food?"

This smart mouth jerk, Savannah sighed in her heart: "Unless I want to have an unpalatable and insipid dish. But I do when I am hungry, everything is tasteful when you get hungry."

A symbolic threat, Francis glanced at her again, he admitted that her answer was sharp. He also thought that this conversation was enough to activate the hypnosis. Hence, he stopped walking and waited for her to look at him before he said:" What do you know about Nicolai? " At the same time clicked his fingers without waiting for a response.

It was an instant, Francis felt lost in a sea of darkness, not able to move. He could feel his legs disintegrating like a piece of sugar cube shattering under a big stone, and aimlessly floating in the void in a spiral motion, that gets faster and faster.

Under the spell of nothingness, a conscious being experiences the horrifying process of perishment. It was a miracle Francis could open his eyes to the real world.

He was already on his knee, shaking. His hand covering his mouth. The dizziness trifled with his senses. He barely could hear Savannah when she said: "What?" or when she approached him asking about his condition.

After he got a feel of the ground supporting his weight, he declared: "I think I need to throw up." Because he couldn't walk straight, or he was able to control his nausea, he crawled to the side of the corridor and started to throw up.

When the relief climbed the muscles of his body, he became conscious of his state. Humiliated by the sudden weakness, he apologized for the indiscreet sight. Savannah waved it like nothing and waited for him until he regained his force and adjusted his attire before they go down. She even brought water and cleaned behind his mess.

It's insane, this hollow darkness. It's insane, how can someone with an inane vortex in his mind keep his sanity? This question dominated Francis's perception, savored all his wits until he set a foot in the dining room.

The dinner table was almost ready, splendor with food variety. What grabbed Francis's attention was the two cooked goat heads who resembled some Chimeras who were serving him. They vigorously displayed on the table with an apple in their mouths. That not all, there were also few birds and some vegetables. In short, he never saw a table full of a lot of dishes as he was witnessing right now.

He gaped, who is going to finish all of this?

It wasn't long until Hendrickson made his entrance with someone Francis didn't recognize at first, especially with those black horns crowning his head, and those bat-like wings cloaking his body.

A moment after, Lady Akila emerged, holding a teapot. After she saw the gentlemen all present she smiled at them: "Thank you, everyone, for your presence, please take your seats, the dinner is ready, I hope you will enjoy my cooking."

A minute late, Kanari followed, holding a basket full of fresh-baked bread. She appeared immersed in her labor, forgetting all about her shyness towards Shiva, her dislike towards Hendrickson, and her wariness toward the Crimson Lord.

Later, When she was obliged to take a seat, she found the only one which was not occupied. The seat between her mother and Lord Shiva opposite to Mr. Hendrickson and all her insecurity resurfaced.

Kanari puffed her cheeks. Stealing glimpses at her sister in hope that she will help her exchange the seat with someone, But Savannah was busy sucking up to Lord Shiva who sat in front of her. Kanari swallowed her saliva and sat down in contempt.

Less than an hour, Francis was shocked, he didn't expect that all the dishes will be licked clean. Those who ate more and without reservation were the three Crocotta, despite that their way of eating was somehow respectful. However, they have eaten like an individual who didn't dine for days, rather weeks.

Was he starving them when it was his duty to feed them?

Whereas the other horned creature whom Francis assumed to be the real Lord Shiva didn't eat much, a cup of coffee, a sip of water, and he was done.

Francis considered himself and Hendrickson the only ordinary people around this table.


	58. Chapter Fifty-eight : A dilemma of decision-making

After the dinner, the change of rule win over the friendly air of the dining room. The atmosphere in the main house turned listless and gloomy. The sensation of foreignness cast its veil-like a big tent above the silent corridors.

The windows glass of the main hall reflected a thick water fog culminating inside. A shadow appeared and pushed one of the window sash open, it caused the white fog to be tempered by the outside air as it ascended to the sky in surges.

Behind the sash, Lord Shiva stood, wings wide open, baring his dress to the display. He wasn't actually alone, another shadow was sitting in the rear, not far away.

The water fog source turned up to be generated by this shadow, as a new wave emerged each time he breathes.

"Are you sure you can handle Seaben, I heard from Hendrickson that he still have servants?" Lord Shiva cut the silence dead:" and what about that informer of yours?" he hissed: "Do not tell me that he is the guide you have told me about? Finally, Hendrickson got something wrong." A grin failed to not bright color his visage.

Not receiving any interaction, he continued his indulgence in baring his thoughts and complaints: "You can't be in two places at the same time." he meant that Savannah couldn't track his ex-butler and the guide simultaneously. "Besides, I have yet to get your spare scythe repaired."

"Don't worry, I do not need to kill anybody for now" Savannah finally was able to participate in this one-sided conversation, her voice was deep and heavy as if it was coming from a bottomless well. The water fog climaxed from her mouth with each syllable she had pronounced, alerting Lord Shiva.

The carefree wings stashing his body flapped open, unchaining his arms. He strode towards the source of the voice, all concern and heed: "Savannah!" a gentle tone yet a fit of subtle anger ignited in his eyes. He was torn between caring for her health and faulting her for not being prudent enough: "This is not a game, look at your self and your carelessness. And look at me, my freedom is at stake if you don't get back the opal circlet at any price."

Water fog rolled in turbulent and Savannah started to cough. Making her back relax on the seat, so it will be easier for her to breathe. Witnessing her gasping for air, Lord Shiva's heart grows softer, his wing turned back to cloak his body." What happened? How did you get yourself in this state of disarray?"

Savannah thought back at the scene when the crimson vampire started vomiting: "I was careless." and waited for Shiva's lecture. To her surprise, preach ended with a simple short sentence, foreign to Lord Shiva's nature for being a professional lecturer, notably to her.

"All of my problems began at your carelessness."

The silence preyed again, the fog proliferated, working hand in hand with darkness to obscure the whole room. And yet again everything was slain by Lord Shiva's serious voice: "I am not leaving all the work to you, you track down the guide or whomever you think will lead you to the Opal circlet, and I will go after Seaben." He sighed, eyes fixed on the turbulence of the fog: "After all, Between him and me, there will be a long chat."

"No." Savannah said after her cough lessened: "You are under surveillance..." She glared at Lord Shiva, the latter only could see two sources of yellow light blazing among the fog and darkness.

Not affected or engaged by the firm refusal, Lord Shiva bent the stream of the conversation, an inquiry long dug his head refusing to let his conscious to the comfort of certainty. " You said you met this doctor in Babel?"

"Uh-huh."

"You also said that his most characterized trait is the bone-eater in his right leg and right arm."

"Uh-huh." Savannah was unsure of where these questions are leading to. Her wonder intensified when his inquiries stopped coming. Arms crossed, hand supporting his chin, his wings restless, for an instant were open and with the twink of eye close.

"What?" Savannah's forbearance has gone with the window breeze. Thou she only obtained a long absent-minded glance. "You are killing me, say something." She pleaded

"I think you have been deceived."

More questions poured on Savannah's head.

"The Chimera race is varied and abundant, they exist everywhere, they live in tribes, some even have built prosperous cities, they united to create a glorious nation. Some of them are extremely gifted, powerful, and some of them dwell at the bottom well of existence. After an intermittent pause, Shiva continued: "Although, I have never met or heard a Chimera who survived a bone-eater to the age of ten years. Yet I have heard of certain creatures nicknamed bone-eater. I fear that there is more to this Chimera doctor than it reaches the eyes."

Savannah wasn't Indifferent towards Lord Shiva's logic. Actually, she thought about this matter, high and low, long and hard.

What is Rokah's true identity? Who he is? What he is? Was it all coincidence when he appeared in her path?

Coincidences do not exist in this world, everything happens for a reason, those occurrences called coincidences only arise because someone else planned them.

Savannah gathered clues that surrounded this person's identity. Her theory about coincidences was reinforced when she thought about the Kerit. The same Kerit Mr. Hendrickson worked hard to trap while he was planning to kill him. This Kerit relationship with the doctor, she wondered about. He said he was his assistance, he said Rokah wasn't his real name...

All his declarations, were they a diversion to gain her interest, her blessing? Savannah's intuition says otherwise.

To her dismay, fate desired to intervene with her scheme, under the cursed hand of Mr. Hendrickson. Nothing goes her way when Hendrickson makes his unwelcome entrance. He was and is skillful at baring the concealed cards in her hands, with or without an intention.

By telling Rokah about the truth behind this village, she had lost an immense advantage. Now, Rokah does and will not believe in her hollow promises or would he follow her unreasonable orders… Which will make her sister's hard work to transform him into a perfect puppet pours entirely in the trash can.

During their last private discourse, Savannah was nearly about to cut Mr. Hendrickson's throat if it wasn't for his brilliant proposal that magically patched all the loose ends of her initial plan. Furthermore, he promised her to help not only by concealing this matter from her mother but also will help her track down the whereabouts of the opal circlet.

Of course, nothing is free when Hendrickson is involved, he always manages to get his payment. According to or refusing has no meaning in his graded schema. Or obstacles, constraints will rain over the head of the ones who deny him what he thinks he deserved. In the case of Savannah, fears stamped from her mother discovering her hidden agenda, her selfish reasons, and her faithless objectives.

She thought about silencing the man for eternity but killing a herald in the presence of his pure-blood Sire doomed to be a declaration of war. A war her mother and sister worked hard to avoid. Death wasn't forever the right answer.

However, she must be impartial, pragmatic. Not governed by wavering emotions as her mother's painful lessons taught her. This firm resolve as powerful as it appeared didn't protect her from falling, again and again, victim to her own nightmares and recklessness.

Being reasonable when carefully calculating the pros and cons of Mr. Hendrickson's self-proclaimed successful plan. Her gains exceeded the cost, thus she decided to go with his proposal, at least for the present time.

She looked at Lord Shiva, the yellow color of her eyes gleamed in the darkness, giving an assuring flash of light: "It happened that I have discussed this matter with Nicolai, we have arrived at a mutual agreement, and we have designed a plan that goes perfectly with the current situation." When she finished her phrase, she didn't expect to receive the display of a doubtful face from the horned, winged creature.

His silhouette was shrouded in obscurity, yet she was able to discern the lineament of his visage, clear and patent. A typical ability of a beast and a night hunter.

Yearning for his opinion, waiting above the embers. Savannah's nature always welcomes a second view, a different perspective. At last, the Lord voiced his concern with an ambiguous question: "In exchange for what he is going to completely blind himself for your sake?"


	59. Chapter Fifty-nine : A leader of a clan

Without a single word for refuting, Savannah stayed silent, mind a white page from a new book. Seconds volatilized in despair. And before her brain came with a statement, a pretext for her unexplainable mercy for Mr. Hendrickson's situation, Lord Shiva forwarded: "Let me guess, he asked you to eliminate Seaben?"

She watched him inhaling slowly, loudly, making his disappointment patent:" You became reckless when someone offers you a slim chance to solve your problems. You won't think about the overall outcome as long as you get rid of what is bothering you in the present. That's why you get yourself exploited."

Shiva took a quick look at her aloof face. Honestly, one of the many reasons Savannah occupied a prominent place on his ladder. Oblivious when she shows mercy, sympathetic to those she considers accomplices. What a cocktail of dangerous blind spots. Looks at her, she clearly didn't grasp what he implied.

"Did you forget that you can't kill without a scythe? Or do you overlook the accident ten years ago?"

" No, "Savannah hushed, the mention of that gloomy day of her black history petrified her soul: "He didn't ask me to kill your dealer or anyone for that to boot. " Her words rapidly quit her lips, for she hated this topic to the core. However, her attention was brought to a point she was ignorant of.

Before Shiva spoke about the matter of the Chimera magus, Savannah didn't question why Nicolai didn't ask her to eliminate Seaben.

" Really?" The lord cut her train of thought, saving her the expense of returning to the reality: "When I talked to Nicolai before the dinner, he couldn't shut up about Seaben's betrayal and how much he suffered from it."

" Lord Shiva, According to you, what is the hidden intention of Mr. Hendrickson by wanting to eliminate the magus Chimera?" For Savannah, Nicolai wanting the magus Chimera death was reasonable and legitimate. A traitor's end should soak in bloody disgrace and appalling pain. After all, she was going herself to slay that Magus whether Nicolai asked her to do it or not.

"Don't rush and think a little about it," Shiva began to explain: "If Seaben gets eliminated early, Nicolai wants us to believe that he killed him because of his treachery. This is only on the surface, His buried motive as I see it, Nicolai wanted to keep only one version of the story - obviously his own version- of what exactly had happened on the farm and how he lost it to the blood demon."

Being perspective, not requiring a further argument, Savannah stood speechless, aghast against Lord Shiva's cogent reasoning. She never took the matter from this angle. And airing Mr. Hendrickson's motive this way was more consistent with his personality.

Her eyes followed Lord Shiva back as he walked towards the window. She wanted to praise his quick wit and profound logic. However, his words outrun her lips: "If he didn't ask you to eliminate Seaben, perhaps, I am overthinking." Pretending to be humble, Lord Shiva emphasized.

"No, you are not wrong in your suspicions." Savannah declared, the fog water around her disturbed, its turbulent movements generated by inhaling, exhaling succumbed into chaos: "He asked me to keep the coffin that dealer of yours took with him and safeguard it."

"A coffin?"

"What if Nicolai had asked somebody else to get rid of the magus?" After this realization, Savannah hurriedly walked towards the door. In her mind, only one prominent thought, to catch up with the butler carriage before the magus gets eliminated.

Leaving Lord Shiva's silhouette slowly eaten by the thick water fog. The latter flapped with his wings to facilitate the fog disperses, content: "Let see what you are trying to bury by Seaben's death, my dear almighty seer."

***

Akin to lightning speed, Savannah reached her sister's personal chamber. She stormed inside without knocking, frenzied, yelling: "Kanari… Kanari… Where are you? Where did you hide the permits that I asked you to prepare for me?…"

Not wasting any second of her time, she was searching through the desk, under the bed, between accessories... No chance for slacking.

Her sister emerged from a small door, frustrated, her hair soaking wet, wearing an only bathrobe. The displeasure shone her face red due to the interruption:" Stop yelling, even dead heard you." Sweeping her palm over her face, eliminating the scare droplets of water. "Why don't you just go down and tell the world about them." Kanari upheld the fact that if her mother found out about those illegal permits, she won't get her hand on the Crocotta official seal for the next decades.

"Sorry… Sorry, but I am truly in a hurry." Hands bowing down, softening the ambiance, the older sister apologized yet in haste.

Kanari sighed, eyebrows scowl smoothed. Then she walked into the lair where she has stashed those illegal permits. It was between the cushion fabric.

Meanwhile, she sought the opportunity to inquire about their usefulness. "So, for whom you need all those illegal permits?"

This question startled Savannah, yet she reserved the oblivious look: "Of course, for Rokah and the Amarok."

"Then, you don't need all the three of them…" Kanari playing the mischievous part. She finally pulled out the three signed permits that she had prepared. Then, glares directed at her sister, getting to the important part:" We are in this together, what are you not telling me?"

Savannah didn't wait for another petition, her sister a master in an emotional ruse. A carbon copy of their mother. Better not let her start, ignorance will be at her side when everything reached a revelation.

She used the advantage of being taller - approximately by a head and half - then swiftly moved her hand to snatch the permits away, motion like the graceful breeze, cool and smooth. When she reached the opening of the room, she threw several words about being sorry for this sneaky conduct as well as being in an extreme emergency, before she left the room, leaving a faint trace of fog.

Reluctant to accept what just happened, Kanari chased after her back to the vacuum of corridors. The flush of bath warmth mixed with the shallowness of anger, Kanari stopped her pursuit when she realized that she will never catch her.

Abandoned in the cold, and darkness, between the stiff unconscious Chimeras, Kanari's eyes shine akin to a candle's flame near it quench. Her heart throbbed with doubts: "Really Savannah, all those hide-and-seek games we were playing, were solely for you to retrieve a piece of jewelry you have lost. No, this can't be the entire story. What are you hiding?"

****

Another obstacle faced Savannah as she finally made her way outside the main house. In fact, her mother seemed as if she was waiting for her.

When those pale yellow eyes glittered in the darkness like a pair of twin stars, Savannah in full running state halted arbitrarily. She couldn't pretend that she didn't hear her mother's soft calls.

Those glittering eyes that looked like they were suspended on a thick black shadow, approached Savannah's position. "Where are you going?"

"After the treacherous Chimera dealer," Savannah answered while her eyes spotted Kanari's notebook in her mother's right hand.

"Didn't we agree that you won't leave the farm unless our new associate does first?"

"Mother, it's not like you need my presence that bad, you are here, Lord Shiva here, and sister Surveen will get here, if not at the down at least in the morning."

"Why then the change of heart?" Lady Akila eyed suspiciously: "If you wanted him, why wait until now, why let him flee in the first place? Didn't you say the patrolling guards will take care of him?"

"Mum, I was just being lazy, besides, at that time, I didn't have a plausible reason to waste time and efforts on him."

"Hmm, what changed then?"

Savannah clenched her fist, the time was passing on, and every second made her target reach farther. Moreover, what's wrong with this interrogation?

"I am just worried, what if the Chimera dealer dies before he gets caught by the patrol? If so, we will have to make do with Mr. Hendrickson's version of the story."

"Mm, so you think Hendrickson still has a pawn capable enough to face a Chimera magus…, Do those suspicions of yours have a valid basis?"

Those inquiries were not coming from a mother's natural solicitude instinct, those are inquiries made by an investigator, a detective. Savannah harnessed the ability to distinguish the difference. To figure out when her mother acts as a mother or as a clan leader.

"No, but I will feel safer if I catch him first."

Eyes on eyes, it was a fraction of a second of mutual observations, lasted like an eternity for Savannah. Her mother, at least, changed the subject: "It's most likely he will take the quickest road to Babel, the biggest city in the region. If you get there before me, make sure to give your uncle this message." Akila teared up a few pages from the notebook and handed them to Savannah while she clarified: "Tell him the hospital food supplies will start again before the new moon."

Folding the papers and storing them in one of her pockets, Savannah's eyes didn't strand from her mother's face. At a predator face, calm, serene, and awfully dangerous. She sensed that there was something wrong, but she couldn't fathom its essence.

"Savannah…" the light of her mother's eyes intensified, sealing a raging flame: "Is there something else you want to tell me?".

It was apparent that Akila suspecting her daughter of doing something stupid and risky. But why she isn't yelling, scolding, or warning like every time? Why this patience and strange treatment of flexibility?

Those dancing dilemmas, Savannah didn't have much time to mold over them. She sprinted into the night world, racing a free arrow after whispering the word "No." in a low tone.


	60. Chapter Sixty : A life-menacing quiz

For a carriage to get in or out on this farm, there were two roads. There were other roads for someone to travel on his feet.

The first considered the main, it was wide, straight, and neatly paved while the second was cleaved between the giant trees of Ea forest. Thus, it had a lot of ups and downs, obstacles, and turns. It wasn't comfortable to use, but it served its purpose of providing a natural resort for illegal trespassers. As well as, it was a shortcut to quickly leave the Crocotta's territory.

Since it was the beginning of the spring, the village and the major road hardly contained a trace of snow. However, the secondary road looked like the winter had yet to depart. Chunks of snow resting on the tree trunks and branches, refusing to melt away. A layer of ice also covered the road. Anything passed above it will leave a trace of its path.

Savannah jumped from a tree branch to the road, inspecting the trails formed on the ice. She deduced that these trails complemented the wheels of the carriage she had seen the butler preparing. Although, those marks were profound, splitting and smashing the hardened ice like a piece of cookies. It led her to consider the possibility of; not only the carriage loaded with goods, more, but the butler is also being accompanied by at least three other Chimeras.

She hummed, the pleasure of practicing her favorite hobby worked its way to her head. Screwing with it.

Hunting under starless night rendered her delirious. Blind by the desire to catch up.

Slightly hooked tusks surfaced whenever she breathed through her mouth. Water fog culminated. She continued her mission, jumping from a tree branch to another, till she got to a spot where marks became a little confusing.

From her high standing, Savannah watched the positional discordance, the irregularity of the piles of snow in this place. The trail of the carriage was not disturbed, however, the snow gathered under and on the surrounding trees seemed tempered by a third party.

An in-place of quick inspection, pale yellow glittered, beamed thirsty. A third party joining the chase. Probably more.

One was following the carriage, relying on the tree branches to close the speed gap. While the other was below, lurking behind a trunk. Camouflaging his body beneath a layer of cold.

Savannah got the impression that those two persons weren't likely working together, neither they were strangers.

The initial excitement that electrocuted her body channeled into a wave of seriousness.

Who could those two persons be?

The one pursuing the carriage must be the one that Mr. Hendrickson had sent after the butler, whereas the second…

Judging from the footprints he left, he must be a man with a sizeable frame and a heavy body. The only individual she knew and matched this description was the Kerit. Also, this remote place was near his hideout. Savannah worked a fast decision. The starless night stretched long. The chase will be dull if concluded quickly.

To fulfill two distinct goals at once, she chose a hit or miss venture; Sacrificing a few minutes, confronting the Kerit, taking care of the Amarok issue. Then give them the permits of passage. They better be far away from this area before sister Surveen; the head of the investigation team arrives. By this, Savannah will feel less stressed about the two of them present within the Crocotta clan boundaries.

And about the identity of the other party whom he was after the carriage. The Kerit interrogation will reveal the veils of her uncertainty.

Dazzled by the brilliant multi-purpose idea, Savannah's face paralyzed in cheesed off mimic. Something big was missing from the front of the old, tattered cottage.

Where could the giant form of a shape-shifted Amarok disappear?

"Could it be that the Kerit had shrunk the Amarok's body, or he turned him back to a humanoid form? " Adopting the optimistic view, Savannah answered her earlier question. Sadly, her positive reasoning never matched her reality.

Refusing to acknowledge the gloomy shadow on Isidore's lineaments, she hung on to the last thread of hope.

Unbiased, begging herself to not snap on, no matter what the situation. The extreme urgency, the threat of being discovered won't grant her this luxury.

"What happened? Where is the Amarok?" White fog raised from the ground, restless, adding to the hazy forest atmosphere.

"He tricked us, he wasn't actually unconscious. He sought the right moment and escaped."

The steam erupted, consumed the two individuals, then abated in a wink of an eye.

Calm down, calm down... The skeptical side of Savannah lulled her down. Was she going to believe in this man's words? Because she judged that he didn't make a thread to her. Because of his severe physical handicap?

This Kerit was targeted by Hendrickson himself. No doubt, his grave handicap was caused by him.

Whether Mr. Hendrickson's soft attack on this Kertit had fulfilled its aim or tossed in vain, Savannah could never rule out the possibility of this man's intentions were exactly as he had told her.

Did he truly believe that being stuck on this farm was a stroke of mere poor luck? Was he really oblivious of Mr. Hendrickson's ploy by luring him into this farm?

Unanswered questions surfaced, a little time to reflect upon them. Yet Savannah's restriction of not being able to kill the kerit or the Amarok in the boundaries of her clan territory was standing, even if she possessed her scythe.

The discovery of this Kerit or the Amarok dead or alive within the Crocotta territory, will raise a heavy investigation and put her mother's authority at risk, both inside and outside the clan.

That's the last thing she wants to happen.

Curse you, Hendrickson. Now she is not just forced to clean after herself, but also after him.

"Where were you when he escaped?" She asked. This query meant to play a light trap. The Kerit's answer will resolve her dilemma of believing or disbelieving.

"First, let me congratulate you on retrieving back this village without a damaging battle."

Savannah narrowed her eyes… a were-creature has a sense of agility, will feel the barrier demise. But this Kerit acute senses were quasi destroyed by Hendrickson.

"I arrived at this conclusion when I saw the man who trapped me in this village fleeing. And I guess it was the reason behind your delay." Isidore explained.

The image of Mr. Hendrickson in his sorry state flashed between her eyes. "What?" She became confused, she was certain that Mr. Hendrickson didn't leave the main house:

"I saw him fleeing in a horse carriage. I am sure it was him, the one who cast the barrier in this village, I have experienced it before."

Savannah's ears detected the Kerit statement. She realized that his logic was impeccable, but he missed the accurate information.

Or was it Mr. Hendrickson's intention...

At least, for the time being, she didn't need to worry about this man. Thou, if he pinpointed the tip of the cord, he will be a pain to deal with. No wonder Hendrickson wanted to shut him up.

Still, as it made her reassured of the Kerit unawareness about the details of Mt. Ninurta operation, as much as it made her wary about everything Hendrickson has told her.

No surprise, he has a lot of enemies. No surprise, her mother didn't shut up about the severity of working with this man as well as being careful around him. Perhaps Kanari's powerful hate radar was an unpolished rare sense to detect danger.

Mr. Nicolai Hendrickson's entire relationship is based on hypocrisy, lies, distrust. How terrifying to work with someone that will stab you the moment you blank. How can the honorable Savannah as she thinks about herself handle such things?

"Where do you think he is going to, the Amarok?" One more test won't do harm.

"His regeneration ability has sped up the moment he ate the Chimera meat. But don't worry, I do not think he got far." Isidore answered, not sure about the theory, but he wished that the young Crocotta won't get mad and kill the Amarok. If she does so, he will lose the ticket to learn about what has happened to the real Rokah.

" I know, I can't be much of help, but I can assist you in finding him."

Savannah didn't have much time for this, and it's obvious to her that the Amarok must be on his way to flee the Crocotta territory after the barrier broke. She hurriedly brought out the permits of passage and said: "This is what I have promised you. Those permits are temporary, they will expire before the new moon. Find the Amarok and get out of my territory. If I find one of you still here after the new moon… I won't be this generous."

"Thank you, my lady, I promise that you won't see us in your territory ever again." Isidore's voice was sincerely grateful. He didn't believe he was getting his ticket out this easily.

" Something else… you have said that you have seen the Chimera magus carriage, what else did you have seen." Another testing question.

"Honestly, I didn't see much, the carriage was at full speed." Isidore paused and Savannah's eyes glowed with malice. "Though I am certain that I have seen the Chimera Magus, he was with others Chimera."

"That's all." Savannah looked away, pretending to inspect the Amarok track for the purpose to shun the malice on her face to be seen by the Kerit.

"No, I also have seen your servant following the horse carriage."

"Servant?"

"The doctor."

At last, Savannah looked directly into Isidore's eyes. She seemed satisfied. As a soft touch of breath, quick and cool, she disappeared between the falling snowflakes.

Isidore constricted chest relaxed. For a moment he felt he was a goner.


	61. Chapter Sixty-one : A choice of retaliation

The carriage wheels rolled over the unpaved road. They ran over stones, twigs, and small plants, carelessly, crushing the life out of them. The sound of the horses' hooves resonated into the deadly silence created by the majestic trees of Ea forest. The lash hit their back, over and over, refusing to let them rest.

The scattered snowflake blended into his hair, melted on his porcelain skin. Rokah sleeking like a frigid breath. Weightless jumps from a branch to another, barely keeping up with the carriage speed. Though, a shade of confidence reflected on his face. He was certain that the wheels of the carriage wouldn't hold longer.

Guided by Mr. Hendrickson's instructions, Rokah tempered with the wheels of the correct horse carriage.

On how this man has figured the butler choice, which the latter will choose among many other carriages was a mystery. After all, Mr. Hendrickson only left to Rokah the choice of believing or disbelieving him.

Rokah who finally broke out from the Crocotta chains didn't take long to make his choice.

Only one last part of his agreement with Mr. Hendrickson needed to be accomplished.

Eliminating the Chimera magus; the butler of the main house.

Certainly, Rokah didn't accept this hard mission without a tempting reward. He actually never ceased to renew that conversation between him and Mr. Hendrickson, again and again, chewing it, like a piece of meat, querying if he had made the right choice.

"When the barrier disappears, the Magus will flee as fast as he could. He will go through the forest. Wait for his passage there and follow him. The carriage wheels won't hold longer. When you finish him, search the carriage for the permit he stole from me. It's yours."

The resume of that meticulous, tricky conversation. As it sutured under the blessing of an upcoming arranged fate. Mr. Hendrickson also mentioned:" It's up to you to consider the suggestion or not." offering Rokah the riddle of choice, the mirage of freedom that he yearned for.

Finally, the carriage wheels gave up. Fractured under the overwhelming pressure. Subjected to this anxious speed, the horses and the wagon overlapped, then they rolled several laps in the slope before they got stuck between trees.

It was a big and painful crush, the tired horses stuck between the debris, moaned in pain. The riders could barely move, blood ousted from their head, and the door of the carriage was pushed from the inside without being opened.

This was Rokah's long-awaited moment. The time of action. It took him a blink of an eye, getting to the accident site.

Ruminating his first encounter with this magus, his first impression of the man. The deep abasement, the extreme accusations. Thinking objectively, they all started at this man's hands.

The intentional accident smelled of a tragedy from an old book. The gruesome pressure brisked a sleeping pleasure. A remote craving in Rokah's heart that wakes up unevenly. He started by relieving the horses' pain, sending them to the other world.

Next, he proceeded towards the riders; they were herbivorous Chimeras, the abundant genre in the village- farm. Rokah observed their sore expressions, listened to their painful cries, inebriated at the sight of their blood. The forest shades tinted red.

The memory of the magus offering him to sign the pact of slavery. Chewa's face sparkled under the tears, then bathed in blood. Her mother hollow eyes. The serial murder of the woodcutters. All were erroneously attributed to someone else.

In A burst of hatred, Rokah, with his hand, covered those poor eyes, murmuring into their ears: "Do not fret, I will avenge you, in a moment."

The trembling ended. It was a quick motion, a straightforward treatment for relieving the torment of agony.

The carriage door got broken from the inside. A tall and hairy man struggled to push his torso up. He was extremely disoriented, yet he didn't stop trying to get out.

Rokah was monitoring each quick or slow movement, each weak or strong hit made by this individual. The fierce struggle. Rokah's heart pumped a grudge , and malice, delighted. The irony of fate, it never ends to amuse the spectators.

This man is a Chimera, one of them, yet he assisted in enslaving his race, exploiting them, murdering them. He used his gift in helping their predators.

This man is the most despicable of all, more than the Aractanthrope or the Crocotta and he deserved a painful death.

The reason Rokah chose to kill this man, not because he believed in Mr. Hendrickson's words, neither he wanted to deny the tiny hope in his heart that he would find a permit of passage. But deep down he strived to be the killer of this man.

It was his revenge for Chewa and Madam Linda, to all the brainwashed, enslaved Chimera in the village.

It was his solace for not being able to save anyone. It was for his feebleness and self-consolation.

***

Isidore didn't waste a second. Emerging from the cottage, packed with the necessary luggage, he tailed the Amarok, hoping that he would find him in the next three days or he shall leave the Crocotta territory alone.

With the extra weight on his body and the hurdles in his road, it slowed his progress.

The first light of the morning facilitated his navigation through the intricate paths of the forest. Since his night vision has been dramatically reduced the day activities molded much to his favor. However, the danger stayed the same.

Inspecting the distinct traces on the undissolved parts of the snow, checking the frost pattern on the tree branches, they were all clues that helped him to stay on the right path.

Restless doubts crawled his legs. The feeling of being intentionally misled by the traces germinated under his knuckles, perturbing his advance further. Till he found a stain of blood dwindled among white snowflakes.

Isidore's brain began forming guesses, his thoughts settled down on the idea that the Amarok health condition must have deteriorated.

It's true, the Amarok had consumed the Chimera meat that helped in accelerating the body regeneration. However, for a lot of reasons, the fatty meal would be meaningless if he can't digest it.

Cold, fatigue, strenuous movements will work to the Amarok disadvantage.

A few feet more and Isidore finally could see someone's body on the ground, struggling to get up. The boost of success extinguished the fire of fatigue. He quickly approached the site.

Near the Amarok tired body, there was a pool of vomit, pieces of undigested raw meat melted in gastric secretions and blood. His face was drenched with droplets of sweat, his breathing revealed an unbearable pain.

Isidore looked down at the ground, watching the trembling arms and legs in their attempt to move the weak body forward. Isidore's eyes were of someone nonchalant, but deep down he was marveling.

What could drive this man to cling to a life to this extent…

Love? Hate? Or simply something as trivial as the unconscious reasoning of survival instinct.

Anyway, Isidore murmured: " This must be your lucky day that I am the first to find you."

He took a cover from the luggage that he brought with him and proceeded to wrap the Amarok body with it, then he used a rope to hold him on his back.

The moment Isidore felt ready to walk, a drop of slimy liquid fell on his head. It was bigger than a kid's fist.

Another one fell next to him.

He lifted his head, checking the source. A white with black strips of fur obstructed his vision. Two horns from striped hyena-like head halted high above. Pale green eyes glared at Isidore with something akin to a calm threat.

The droplets of saliva loosely pending between the Crocotta teeth as a thick breath emerged from its inclined mouth.

It must be the smell of blood and meat that brought her here.

Without a delay, Isidore took out the permits from the pocket of his leather coat and held them as high as he could.

A warm wind brushed over his face. The sultry air coming from the Crocotta's nostrils mixed with the outside cold to form a thick moist fog.

Isidore's eyes slightly blinded, but he managed to observe the Crocotta gigantic body fading between the trees. Its motion was regular despite the obstacles in its road as if it was riding the wind.

A Crocotta with ghostly characteristics. No wonder Isidore didn't sense its presence at all even though its head was above him.

Maybe that Crocotta didn't bother much with them because it was in a hurry to get back to the Chimera farm.

He adjusted the unconscious Amarok position on his back before he made his first step out of the dangerous territory and towards the big city of Babel.

****

"Thank goodness sister Surveen was in a hurry, if not, how I was going to explain to her this massacre," Savannah murmured between her lips as she gazed at the crime scene.

At the same time, she felt anxious about her sister Surveen's urgency. She hoped that the green-eyed Crocotta wasn't carrying some kind of bad news to her mother.

A broken carriage, dead horses, and slew Chimera. There was no resistance or fight. A one-sided slaughter, Savannah deduced from a superficial inspection of the place.

The first thing that came to her mind is that her reputation will again suffer gravely if her name gets linked with this massacre.

How fate is not fair, making her bear again the fame of being a lover of slaughter.

She walked closer to the site. The smell of Chimera blood caressed her nose, What a waste for precious livestock.

However, the young warrior was in an alert state, she yet had to find the body of the butler.

Who could be the real thug? This question rolled in her mind with each step she took towards the dead victims.

Perhaps her guess about Mr. Hendrickson sending Rokah to shut up the Chimera Magus was a little overboard. This thought became solidified whenever Savannah inspected a dead body and confirmed that it didn't belong to the butler.

But the aspect of wounds on the neck raised her suspension. Those wounds were just perfect, as if an expert cut them, a doctor…

Immersed in her investigation, she heard a humming, a sough full of pain.

At the base of a near tree, blood was concealed under a pile of snow. The four hairy limbs were cut and put next to a body trembling with the last drops of life.

Eyes were gouged, the tongue was cut, ears were deafened, and the belly was knifed. Then the body was left to die slowly.

Savannah stood looking at the dying Magus, aghast.

What disturbed her wasn't the gruesome scene. What disturbed her the hidden inky side that began to reveal.

This was not about the curiosity of doctors, this was more about retaliation, an act of revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, we finally found out the identity of the killer in the earliest chapters. 
> 
> I hope that you have caught the hints about the serial killer of the woodcutters...


	62. Chapter Sixty-two: A prey’s life circle

A few days later, life, bit by bit, started to bloom on the farm.

The oblivious Chimeras resumed their routine, slowly, as if nothing had happened. It only took to convince them, a grand view, and a short speech from the crimson lord, stating his success in bringing justice upon the predator who was hunting them.

There were also other changes, big changes. But for the simple-minded Chimeras, those were irrelevant compared to their security and physical safety.

Moreover, those new changes weren't heavily mentioned in the short speech. They were deliberately glossed over. Though the gorgeous young lady, with dark skin, pale yellow eyes, and long curly hair that appeared next to the crimson lord's side while he was giving his speech ignited the curiosity of the villagers. Her identity occupied the gossip tables in taverns. Every corner stormed with fantasy and odd stories about her origin.

Ironically, those stories and rumors had the new servants in the main house as a source. Back then, divulging information about the main house was a capital crime.

This young lady's involvement in organizing and directing the activities of the village got bigger and deeper in contrast to the crimson lord. Not to mention her successfully arranging the celebration in honor of the victims of the predator. Of course, sadly, the butler and some of the servants were among the victims when they tried to help.

A few Chimeras linked this turn of events with what had happened some months ago when the crimson lord firstly appeared in their village. And how the other man with the black hair and black eyes - Mr. Hendrickson - role diminished until he was rarely seen, then completely overlooked in the well of forgetfulness.

However, all these small reflections sank under the noise of celebration and the luster of professed triumph.

Before the end of the first day, no one of the Chimeras residents except the servants had noticed the arrival of an unfamiliar face. She was too, a refined woman with dark skin, black straight hair, and pale shining green eyes. Because everyone was occupied by the gigantic mechanical airship that appeared on the horizon.

The Chimeras, in fact, were familiar with the arrival of airships each year. At the beginning of the spring or the autumn. Those two appointments resembled religious rituals for the residents.

Not just a variety of merchandise will enter the village, but also some lucky residents will fulfill their dreams and leave the village to see the world. However, a lot of parents didn't support this so-called opportunity since those who leave never come back.

There were always new Chimeras that came with the airships to register their stay; The harsh stories they told about the outside world served as a sort of entertainment as well as kindled a form of love and guarantee in the heart of its residents for the village, for the lord.

How lucky for them to be born, raised, then will die in such a safe place...

However, what it seemed ordinary to the gullible Chimeras withheld brand amorphous strife between carnivores.

"Ridiculous…" Nicolai slammed his hand on the piano keyboard instigating a disturbing sound: " What did you mean I can't get on my ship." Actually, Nicolai had invested so much in repairing the Kilioz. So much that he considers it his own. "Do you know how I got through to convince the Crocotta clan and the Master of Mt. Enlil to Accept the Kilioz as a goods carrier?"

"And your hard work is much appreciated." Nonchalance blended with a bit of sarcasm, Francis declared: " I will leave you with this." He raised his hand to show a glass bottle, the size of a fist before he added: "You know where the Kilioz is going after this stop, if you want to be able to see the sunlight, you can find me there too."

Without waiting for a reply or a protest, Francis walked out, leaving Nicolai drenched in his anger. It didn't take long for Nicolai to run after the Count after he thought of a counter-attack. Even when using the cane, his injured leg didn't allow him to move faster. Thus, he stood in the middle of the hallway and called out the Count's name as if they were old friends that they didn't have seen each other for eternity.

It was extremely nostalgic for Francis, though when he looked back, his slightly changed expression returned to the indifferent state. However, he couldn't bring himself to leave the man like that.

Nicolai stood, catching his breath. When he was completely relaxed, he said:" Did you know that your butler…"

"Ex-butler." the Count corrected him.

"Your Ex-butler, have fled the farm."

"Yes, I know."

Nicolai paused for a moment. His eyes wondered: "Then, did you know that he took Charlotte Velvalee De Nobilis's coffin with him?". The uninterested expression that coated the Count's face turned into a diaphanous layer that veiled his chock. And it was the reaction Mr. Hendrickson had waited for.

The Count's memory played the filmstrip of that conversation when Seaben asked him to form another deal and asked for the girl in the coffin as a tribute. At that time, Francis didn't think much of it. He perceived the outrageous demand as an endeavor of Seaben to increase his harem circle. But, at present, the feelings Francis got from this matter didn't bode well.

He listened to Hendrickson attentively after he faked the calmness.

"The Kilioz next station is Babel, does it mean that you are going to meet the Duchess of Di Nobilis there?"

"It has nothing to do with you, you should pay more attention to your problems." Francis's tone marked with clear harshness, at the same time, his brain worked hard, forming connections between Babel, Seaben, the Duchess, and what Hendrickson was trying to hint at. He shouted in disbelief:" You don't have any proof."

Hendrickson softly smiled. His ex-friend's wit is operating at full capacity. "I have proof, but even if I don't have proof, the logical sequence will guide you to the same conclusion." He started to walk, while Francis followed his lead as if the natural course of things has returned to the old days: "Babel is the closest city from here and out of the Crocotta control, besides it is a major crossroads for trade, Seaben surely will go there if he wanted to flee from his masters whom he betrayed. Even so, he still needs someone to help him. And what's better than to use a woman that is desperately looking for her little daughter."

Nicolai opened the door to his chamber, inviting, a polite gesture, long-forgotten between the two of them. " Well, what I am trying to say,... "

" My plan to negotiate with the Duchess failed because I don't have something worthy to negotiate with her." Spilled out, the words of realization, a late one, exactly.

Nicolai brought a small wooden box. It was decorated by a beautiful ornament, resembled three white jasmines, under the two D characters and number six engraved in Latin.

It was the crest of the De Nobilis duchy.

The ultimate proof

Aghast, Francis' eyes devoured the jasmine ornament, the number six, the Double D letters. Only looking was enough.

Flourishing under this stupefied condition of his ex-friend, Hendrickson praised Rokah's meticulous awareness when he brought him this box, along with the other things that he asked him to steal from the butler office while the latter was outside trying to calm the Chimera rebellion.

The names register that coded the sleeping spell, most of Seaben slaves contracts. It made Nicolai extremely satisfied, proud, and lusted for more valuable services.

Francis finally woke up from the displeasing surprise: "Are you telling me all of this so you could ride the Kilioz?"

"I am telling you, I can help you deal with the Duchess, so you should take me with you."

"Help me? Then why you didn't tell me earlier?"

"Well, I didn't figure it out," An obvious lie... Both of them exchanged intense gazes of apathy. Francis was never able to hold this kind of pretense. At his heels, he turned back, walking the same steps that brought him here.

"It's your fault, you turned me into a degraded version of a living being, you should take the responsibility." Nicolai snapped, his yelling, apparently managed to cut Francis's departure. "How are you going to help me?" he didn't look back

The silent, indignant Nicolai met the motionless straight back with frowns, waiting for a response, not for a question. And Francis understood that much. Thus he added: "Even if you are going to help me, you can't ride the Kilioz."

"Why? It's my damn ship."

After a slight hesitation, yearning to leave: "The one leading the Kilioz is Admiral Meraki. You know how much he hates you. Since you have turned his glorious battleship into a trade airship." Francis left while regretting not taking the small box from Nicolai's hands.

The abandoned Nicolai halted inertly. questioning the significance of Francis' speech, its purpose, his underlying motivation. The inconsistency, the contradicting behavior blew him, nut. He understood very well that the Count will not let him be discarded early. It's a fact he had long grasped.

Far from preparing for his future plans and shaking off the trouble of the Count's conduct. Deep in his heart, Mr. Hendrickson hoped that Rokah will get rid of the Chimera magus without damaging the girl's coffin as well as for Savannah to succeed in securing it.

He sighed in disgrace at the thought of himself, again, begging Lady Akila for a solution. She surely will have a second thought about his abilities in handling the mission she had proposed to him.

***

A level below, Lady Akila sneezed twice in a row. She walked towards the window and proceeded to shut the glass frame.

Outside, in the middle of the sky, the sun was scorching. The breeze was pleasant and the smell of spring tingled her nostrils. She sneezed again when she turned to face the door.

A graceful woman with green eyes made her entrance while saying: " Pollen allergy?"

Akila sat on the sofa: "No, something unpleasant and more sinister."

The woman with the green eyes and long straight hair snuffed several times, but she didn't smell anything strange. She looked at Lady Akila puzzled.

Akila, taking the liberty to explain: " I think it is a kind of synthetic gas fuel for airships. It made to be odorless so it won't be detected by us, yet it can cause a simple irritation to a temporary partial loss of smell for some. "

The woman completely understood what Akila said.

During the fifth interracial war, mainly between Sacred Wolf's clans and Vampires' bloodlines, the latter used a kind of odorless fuel to aliment their battleships. This fuel served as a double-edged sword for the Vampires, it made their battleships undetectable by the high sensitive senses of the Sacred Wolfs as well as it was mildly toxic which caused irritation to the shapeshifters noses. At the same time, this fuel was also dangerous, highly combustible, and explosive. A wrong move and the whole battleship goes boom.

The question Akila tried to ask, Lady Surveen put it into words: " Why does a goods carrier airship use this dangerous fuel?"


	63. Chapter Sixty-three : A paid off debt

To Surveen's surprise, nothing seemed right after she heard the story of what had happened on this farm. What she had thought was a simple interruption of Chimera's meat supply turned into a big conspiracy:

Mr. Hendrickson, the director of the farm, was trapped, tricked, and he is no longer a human. Well, she never liked him before, but he was excellent at what he does.

Seaben the magus, under Lord Shiva's authority, and the manager of the farm turned a traitor. Surveen confirmed him dead by Savannah's hands in the forest days ago.

A pure-blood Vampire, from the Jasmine bloodline, had infiltrated the farm. He was the one managing it all the previous months. Now, according to a new contract, this Vampire is possessing what it was, Mr. Hendrickson shares, he also has the rights of distribution of the Chimera blood in the human land.

Still, the picture in Surveen's eyes wasn't complete. A lot of gray zones hindered her understanding, such as, how and when Hendrickson turned into a vampire, How could this pure-blood with a smell that can be detected from a mile, infiltrated the Crocotta's cliff despite the top security. What did Seaben get in return from stepping on Lord Shiva's authority? And why did the Count decide to stop the meat supply before the end of winter, did he deliberately want the Crocottas to be alerted about their farm being taken?

And then Esere Akila is detecting a synthetic fuel used in battles coming from an airship supposed to be goods carriers.

Not just Surveen who was longing to hear Mr. Hendrickson's testimony about what had happened, Lady Akila, Lord Shiva were also sitting on a lump of burning coal.

"Should I confirm?" Surveen asked.

"No, not now, we shouldn't make a careless move. If you get discovered, I fear that I can't support you nor the farm can withstand a direct attack."

Akila's cautiousness is generated from her doubt about the identity of the person who is leading the ship right now. If her hunch was right, the license that allows the Kilioz to pass through the Crocotta cliff must be revised.

She shut her eyes, contemplating. The fall of Nicolai Hendrickson will certainly affect the security of the trade balance. Sooner rather than later. Much like the fall of the black colubrine dragon who's his demise caused a monumental shift in the geopolitical constitution of the Innyana range and the neighboring lands. The succeeding events will be hot and spicy, they can bring great gains or unmeasurable calamities to the Crocotta clan.

Leaving this matter for a more convenient time and when more information will be available, Akila changed the subject to the present pressing matter:

"About your investigation in the north…"

"My team finished the investigation, I have written a lengthy report, I may send it to the control committee if the matter of this farm settled."

Akila gave her a meaningful look and asked: "Surveen, be honest with me. Did you find anything about Savannah?"

Lady Akila's question has an underlying layer of depth, refusing to be frank, yet what she meant to ask Surveen, her exact hidden question: "After your investigations, do you think with or without proof that Savannah was implicated in what had happened in Mt. Ninurta and the death of the colubrine dragon?"

The heavy personal interference with the very not innocent question, Surveen didn't answer. The coming seconds, for her, were like a long wait for execution.

The looks on Lady Akila's unruffled face were full of hopefulness, expectation. It made Surveen unable to not give her an answer.

But what kind of answer Surveen was going to tell?

Lady Akila was not just her superior, but also her mentor and sister figure? Lady Akila was the one who saved Surveen's little brother from the shadow of death… Helped her elder brother to his feet when he got exiled. Their relationship runs deeper than the roots of the Ea forest.

Matters of family and children, especially rebellious children, are truly stressful.

" You know, Savannah had engaged the Colubrine black dragon in a direct battle when he entered our borders in the north."

This was trivial information for Akila since everyone has heard about this battle. Besides, who could hide the echoes of such an earth-shattering battle?

"Did she kill him?" Akila demanded in haste.

"No… Several witnesses saw him flying back to Mt. Ninurta' peak."

It seems this sentence returned life to Lady Akila's face.

So Savannah didn't kill the colubrine dragon. Akila exalted, the relief cast on her heart was liberating.

However, only she and a few others knew about Savannah's restriction of not being able to kill unless she used an arm that resembled a scythe. If not, a disaster will happen comparable to what had occurred ten years ago, hence comes to her third question: " Was she armed?"

"Yes," Surveen paused, then added to reassure Akila: "Don't worry, I have confiscated her weapon. And restricted her authority."

Though in Akila's mind played another disk. There was a different concern, an alternative explanation. If Savannah let the colubrine dragon retreat back, despite she was armed. And judging from her impulsive, hot-tempered personality, it only meant that this battle was planned beforehand to cover something else.

"What about the battle scene, did you?.."

Unfortunately, to Akila, this conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Kanari.

At the door entrance, she announced her presence. Her demeanor reflected her hard work in those last days. Yawning while hugging the name register in her arms. The first thing she did when she saw the two ladies leisurely sitting and chatting was to complain: "I finally finished recording all the names of the recent residents. I still have to revise the accounts and check the storehouses…"

A voice reached behind her answering her complaints: " Exactly, that's why, in the beginning, I advised you to select a group from the Chimeras and assign them to do those trivial matters."

The man who supported his weight on a cane stopped behind Kanari, then used the same cane to oblige her to make a passage, so he could get inside. He didn't let the frowning Kanari the opportunity to revoke him and continued:" But what were you saying… Ah, I remember, 'I can do everything by myself'…" Nicolai didn't glance at her and moved towards the two Ladies:" What a childish way of thinking."

Kanari looked at his back as he walked and lifted the register high in the air, wanting to smack this man's head. But she was rebuked by the gaze of her mother and sister Surveen. Those two women agreed. So much with what Mr. Hendrickson had said. Yet they didn't dare to voice their thoughts.

" Aren't you supposed to depart with the Count?" Lady Akila asked while pouring him a cup of coffee.

Nicolai settled on the seat. He didn't meet Akila's eyes when he searched for a reply: " Well, my plan has changed."

" My condolences Sir, I was extremely pained when I had heard about your misfortune." Surveen's voice conveyed exactly the opposite meaning of what she had said. This was her tone of sarcasm and gloating. At the same time, she winked at Kanari, announcing that she has taken revenge on her behalf.

Nicolai forged ignorance and welcomed the edge of the coffee cup to his lips. He felt the invisible pressure coming from three directions as the eyes of the three women settled on him. However, the will of fate was with him this round. The deafening sound of the gyroplane engine penetrated the walls before an inky shadow blocked the remaining sunlight.

The three women protected their sensitive ears. kanari seemed the most affected by this noise.

"Can those machines be more deafening?" She lost balance and dropped to her knees. The pain washed her face white.

This sudden unrealistic response held Lady Akila's attention. She stood hastily, counting the steps toward her daughter.

"Kanari…. What's wrong?"

Noise settled down, but the adolescent girl's pain had yet to leave her face.

Akila was trying to help her daughter to sit. The direct skin contact made her aware of the tremor that ran rampant in her daughter's body. She guessed:

Was it the toxic fuel?

No, the battleship is far away, and the concentration of the toxin in the air is very low.

Was it fatigue?

No, this amount of work won't strain her daughter to this extent.

It toured in Akila's mind the side effects of practicing the art of animation.

"I am okay, just a little bit tired." Kanari comforted the two women that stood close to her, but her eyes confessed something else.

Several seconds later, the young girl stood declaring: "This is the Crimson Lord mounts, I need to see him off."

Sister Surveen stole glimpses from Lady Akila, witnessing her wariness. She mimicked Kanari's movements and reassured her, "I will go with her."

The hall was half empty, granting Hendrickson the chance to lay his query as well as his request.

"Is she tired?"

He didn't receive a reply, though he caught his answer when he saw the apparent concern that dangled between Lady Akila's complex lineaments.

This is a mother's fear for her children. Nicolai couldn't fathom the reason behind this concern.

"Then what do you want?" Her serene voice startled Nicolai. Those who hear it without witnessing Akila's face will doubt that her inner heart was restless.

" I was thinking if you can help me get to Babel."

"Humm," Akila set back to face Hendrickson. Her fingers caressed the edge of the coffee cup. "Isn't the Kilioz allowed to stop in Babel?" Her intention was as clear as a waxing gibbous moon. She wanted intel about the airship, or rather the battleship. She must have sensed a malevolence in the atmosphere.

Lady Akila's sense of danger was a source of both marvel and caution for Nicolai.

" I have lost the ship." He confessed, "It is no longer under my control." He sighed before he added: "Probably, I have lost all of my assets by now."

From the corner of her eyes, Akila scanned his neutral face. "Lets us be clear Mr. Hendrickson. If I help you through this ordeal of yours, you should consider that my debt towards you is paid off."


	64. Chapter Sixty-four : A shot in wilderness

Eyes half-lidded, Rokah immersed in a dream-like state. Trapped between the edge of reality and the drowsiness of consciousness. Repeating the same sceneries, the same incoherent fragmented memories for god knows how many times.

The momentum of vibrations enforced his loss between the archives of the past.

This time, like any other time, he dreamt about his younger self. It was kind of surreal, tantalizing. His younger self hair wasn't platinum white but a portion of the night sky in its darkest moment, his eyes weren't an odd colored of an intense blue and pale gray but a dark brownish ocean, deep and mysterious.

The innocent kid that appeared to be five or six years didn't conceal his arm with a white bandage. The ink-black skin that denoted the bone eater was a simple birthmark, small, limited to the back of his hand.

A sound of trembling voice, old and heavy, carried a profound concern. On the verge of sobbing. Thin bony hands and fingers, wrinkles infested every inch of their unwell skin, cupped his little snow-white face.

"My dear little boy, it pains me leaving you alone, so young, so soon. I am going to leave you in a world where some will scorn you, some will use then throw you, and most will treat you worse than a scabbed dog, although you are the most precious thing I have."

This piece of incomplete memory didn't make much of a context, yet it instigated a torrent of anguish in his heart. The impact of separation, abandonment, death, all took meaning in those words.

Again the scenery changed without notification.

This time, the young boy was older, he appeared twelve or thirteen years. Skinny, malnourished. He wore ragged clothes, cuts of different ages spread over his face, and the exposed parts of his body. The skin of his right hand was completely black. A long black lizard-like tail stretched behind him. A medium-length iron chain extended from his neck and strained him to a half-broken wall.

He was looking at someone as the braid of sunlight shunned from his face. His deep brownish eyes, indifferent, devoid of fear, projected resentment, outrage, and confrontation.

"How much do you want to be free?" Deep, calm voice. The shadow that veiled his face coaxed, forming irregular shapes. Sadly, he couldn't remember his face.

The momentum of the wagon he was riding halted. Rokah sensed a foreign breath nearing his face, his hand jerked in protective movement. Sweeping his eyelids open, the innocent picture of a child greeted his return to the actual world.

"Doctor… have you woken up?" A thick tenor that bombard the eardrums, a man's voice.

"Yeah." Rokah quickly replied, preparing his ear for the second wave. Thankfully, it didn't come.

The innocent face belongs to a kid, a female, exactly ten years old. Despite her young age, Rokah discovered that she possessed the maturity of a senior.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Her tone, as naïve as a lamp. "You were crying,"

A finger trapped a small drop between his eyelashes, refusing to fall.

The young girl exclaimed, worried, "Are you okay Doctor?" Eyes all concern.

Drawing a smile, a real smile, patting her head, a rare affectionate gesture from the bottom of his heart. "How is your mother? And your baby brother?"

"They are good, he is sleeping now after he ate." she jumped from her place, "I will prepare some water so you can wash."

The doctor didn't wait to wash; he made a visit to the wagon ahead. Both the woman who gave birth last night and the newborn health was satisfying. Performing a few clinical examinations. Repeating advice, over and over, a doctor's daily working habits. He took the tiny new life into his arms, meditation on its fragility, its weakness. Caressing its rosy cheeks merely using the tip of the index finger. He whispered near its ear: "Welcome to this harsh, hazardous, sorrowful, and unfair world, I assure you, you will definitely find moments that make you appreciate being born."

The water was lukewarm. The spring sun has yet to win over the frigidity of winter.

Drizzles violated Rokah's pale skin. Naya, the little girl enjoyed serving him, not able to diverge her eyes from him.

When she saw him for the first time, she thought he was an angel.

Wasn’t she right? Healers, who save people aren't they angels sent by God?

Last night, when her mother was saved from her difficult delivery. She followed Rokah and asked him if he was an angel.

He chuckled:" Angels do not exist."

Naya sulked and decided to not talk to him, teasing her like a child was not acceptable. But her heart melted this morning when she saw him toss and turn, tears trapped under his white eyelashes.

Naya inclined that he wasn't an angel. Angels do not have nightmares or feel sad.

This man is just a normal person.

For a kid, she was expectedly observant, lively, and very curious: "Did you hurt your arm?" Noting the white covering. "It became wet, you should have removed it before you washed yourself."

Discarding her nosiness, Rokah stood: "Where is your father?"

***

"Good morning, doctor." A man with a large frame and equally bulky thew, "Last night was very hectic, you should have rested more."

Simias were a very special kind of creature, a subject of confusion and controversy. Because they were extremely similar to humans, some judged them to be a subspecies of humans. Others consider them Chimera's.

They were taller than an average human, physically more powerful and resistant. Their hair was thick and dense. Sometimes it grew in the wrong places.

Rokah's most recent picture of a Simia was the butler he had taken vengeance on... days ago.

"Why do we stop here?"

Chimeras, Simias, and humans were the overwhelming majority that form the sapient species.

"It's a nice place to stop, besides women and children are tired."

Simia males will start savage wars to build and maintain a harem, they have a strong sexual drive.

Rokah recalled how had Seaben surrounded himself with young maids, the best girls in the village.

It was a riddle, this male in front of him accompanied only by two females and three children. His story must not be a simple one.

"Innyana's divinities are fighting each other, we don't have a choice except to dislodge at one of the big cities. At least there are rules over there."

"Innyana divinities?" Complete bewilderment traced the ignorance features on Rokah's face. To his underestimation of the Simia male, the latter was highly perceptive.

The fire smoke danced over the dry grass. The Simia male enforced the tiny sparks to turn into fire.

" This part of the Innyana range is ruled by divine beings. We call them Crocotta. In exchange for their protection, we offer them sacrifices and tributes. They communicate with us by sending alluring, gorgeous young women, so they could blind our judgment more."

"Really…?" Rokah exclaimed in hearing yet another version of maneuvering by predators of their prey.

"I never grow faith in power holders claims, however, look at my family… I had paid dearly when I didn't listen to them, to what the Crocotta wanted."

"What happened?"

" As she had warned us, the calamities broke, a lot of folks died. Those whom they didn't follow her and fared north perished." The man called his daughter Naya, instructing her to bring water. One Simia woman approached the fire and arranged it properly.

Rokah's thirst for secular knowledge hulled his prestigious mask. Curiosity chewed over his nerves, for he was oblivious to the way of the world, and for so long was deceived.

He chased the man's broad back, playing him with delusional words, praising his vast awareness of matters of the mundane world. Solely to find out what he was missing over those months of being indoctrinated by Lady Savannah lies.

"It's the same old story," The man said as he served water to his horses. "It gets repeated time and time, since eternity. They fight each other for glory and territory and we, the normal people, pay the price of their wars."

The weight of unknown facts, the agony of new realizations, earth-shattering when they rain in a flash. And somehow, also ecstatic to the point of delirium.

Rokah blocked up the scorching sun. The green envelope of trees is getting weaker. One eye was open and one was shut, gazing at the blue sky. How much he is going to find out when he will fulfill this strange, powerful urge to get to Babel.

"Tell me, doctor, why do you want to go to Babel?"

Naya was behind, her innocent voice startled him.

"I feel like I will find my lost identity if I get there…" A sudden cognizance struck him awake as he recalled how far away he was from the camp.

His eyes stretched wide, his smooth porcelain skin tingled. His neck cracked when he tried to peep behind: "What are you doing here?" How could she have followed him without him noticing her presence?

The young girl held in her hand something Rokah recognized well, the moment his vision fell on it.

" Why do you need this paper for?" Slowly and gradually the girl's innocent voice transformed into a mature woman's tone. Seductive yet daunting.


	65. Chapter Sixty-five : At the crossroads

"You are a mere broken shell, a humdrum doll, hollow and lifeless. That Simia male brings me satisfaction more than you."Naya scorned with that womanly, nubile voice of her." What a pity… "

" I felt your presence hours before you decided to approach the ride, I contemplated over why you didn't approach. But now I understand." Naya said while she walked in a circle. Its center was the frozen Rokah.

"What are you?" Her big child-like eyes radiating the severe savor of maturity. "You do not have any sense of worth. Even your nightmares were flavorless vapid."

Naya raised her small hand, gazing at the Crocotta permit of passage, then to Rokah's locked expression in alternation.

"Why do you need this? The Divine beasts are territorial, but only among their own kind. Usually, they don't mind the presence of other creatures unless there are special circumstances."

She grasped a step to get near and Rokah's body defied him, stoned in the same posture. Just his shrugged iris swimming fearfully in the perimeter of his sclera.

" I will tell you something, this small family of Simia will never get to any city, alive. They will endlessly wander this plateau aimlessly till they die. I will make them procreate for me until I get sick of their tragedies and lust."

"A demon…" At last, Rokah managed to free his fastened tongue.

It was the echo of chuckles, sweet and girlish, that shadowed his insight.

The woman in the disguise of an infant's skin hardened her fingers around the permit, clicked her tongue and Rokah poured lethargic into the ground.

Contempt roused her bumpy cheeks, blood oozed from her fingernails, the thick paper was tainted in red. "Those who do fear us, always refer to us by ugly names… Demons, Fiends, Devils… I assure you everyone can be a demon of his own kind."

She crossed another step closer, fixed innocent eyes on Rokah's sluggish, worn visage.

On his forehead, curved stylish characters, neither Latin nor Aramaic, ever-morphing in mirage dances.

His eyelids half shut, his vision blurred, then he submerged into forced drowsiness.

What an irony, wasn't this spell the same one he had helped Mr. Hendrickson to use…

A lullaby, then, here another evocation showered his dream. Where everyone was unfamiliar, including himself.

This time, it was winter.

The white snow, like carpet cotton, glossy, and abundant. The little boy with black opulent hair lay on his back. The weak breath thickened when it touched the air. Chopped black fingers scattered. A palm slung a few inches away from the small wrist. A hot fired liquid dripped on the boy's rosy cheeks, then to the surface of the snow. It melted with a trace of crimson redness. The first liquid was transparent and the on the ground was deep red.

An ax was near his small body, planted in the ice. Red veins spread in a maze on its glowing blade.

Words mixed up, sounds of people reverberated across the plain.

"Curse…"

"A cursed child…"

"He brought us disaster…"

"He brought the wrath of demons upon us…"

Yet, no one has been around.

The small body shivered in the hollowness of cold and pain, swallowed by the dread of winter and solitude of nature.

Rokah rosed, moisture clouded his view. For an instant, the colors blended together to outline the portrait of a mature woman. Though, when his visibility honed, a child's face hovered above him.

Chest drifted slowly, eyes fixed on the familiar roof. He was in the carriage. Betrayed by his own body, he couldn't budge a finger.

"I failed again." The mature voice echoed. "I don't understand. It's like you are a bag of fragmented memories, incoherently batched together for an indecipherable purpose."

The little girl dipped her brush into the inkwell. Afterward, a ticklish sensation fondled his forehead.

The girl murmured, her childish tone took over this time: "Let's try again."

"What do you want to know?"

Like an electric wave shocked her face and limbs, her motion paused. A serious gaze dominated her face: "What are you?"

"A mongrel."

"No, You have no dreams, no desires, your existence is fickle, limited to several incoherent pieces of memories." She held her head closer and hissed: "Are you even alive?"

Motionless, apathetic, Rokah pupil narrowed. The unknown urges that forced him to draw, to practice the art of medicine, were to confirm that he existed, that he was here. They were to refute his doubts about his incomplete being.

"Yes, I do, I have a desire."He focused on the girl: "You don't know how much I yearn for Babel, to get there no matter what."

"Why?"

"There is something there I want to find so my life purpose will be achieved."

"Just by finding something undefined? How uninteresting… What is it?"

He closed his eyes, recalling Mr. Hendrickson. Rokah strongly felt that the unknown thing that he craved to find, that he didn't know what is it exactly. Somehow, Mr. Hendrickson, with his insight, uncovered it.

"I do not know."

"Aha…" A dejected look controlled Naya's visage. What a coincidence. She is also searching for something, rather, someone. "Are you kidding me?" Her mature tone flared up: "How can you find something you didn't know?"

Sudden distant drumming pulsated through the dispersed clouds. The sun shone brightly in the middle of the blue sky. A recess, then the drumming emerged between the warble of hidden insects and the chirping birds. A rhythm, both Rokah, and Naya were accustomed to it. A certain individual obsessed with introducing his arrival. By having a personal ring tone.

Rokah was familiar with these announcing beats. And as the confusion crawled his skin, he observed the girl, heedfully, despoiling her every bit of reaction, peeling her masks through her distracted attention as well as apparent fright.

Rokah broke off the spell as she hurried outside the carriage.

Deciding to subtle newly obtained freedom, he reached to his forehead, scrapping the inked places. This melody, it's enunciating style. He experienced it before.

He didn't meet the owner, but his instinct alerted him in getting into this unknown person's range of awareness.

Peeping past the cover of the carriage, carefully finding what was happening.

High in the sky, a big dot hovered over Naya's position. The puzzling hippogriff carriage steadily approached the earth. It was still soaring in the high distance when its door opened.

Enormous bat-wings stretched like parachutes, not bothered by the sunlight, shadowed the Simia little camp.

A free fall…

In a blink of an eye, a horned man, centered by actively up stroking wings, descended soundlessly to the ground.

All the living being in camp and their proximity stopped moving with some exceptions.

"Shiva?" The girl muttered in extreme fright as she looked back to face the man behind.

"Nayara…" in turbulent motion, his stretched wings cloaked his body: "I don't believe that you have followed me here…"

"Do not flatter yourself." The little girl's frightened visage morphed to an extreme degree of contempt.

"I warned you. If you are hungry, just dwell in brothels as usually do and where you belong… Low prestige."

He jerked his head west and east. Securing a firm view of the surrounding area. " Savannah is off your limits. I wouldn't overlook your inadequate behavior again if you made another contact."

A disinterested face eyed the young girl. Between scorn and curiosity, with wavering focus, his wings flapped the air divulging the fake skin.

In the middle of the stirred dust, a mature woman's silhouette cast its shades. Alluring and luscious.

Shiva, ever not enchanted: "Save this lustful glamor to your customers, it won't work on me."

He strode in the direction of the controlled Simia male roaming through his face. "It seems that he is not completely corrupt by your slavish maneuvers," He grinned: " I can sense a trace of pride adhering to his soul."

The beautiful woman enveloped in thin silky fabric halted motionless, doing nothing. Yet her face showed discord of what Shiva was going to do, but clearly unable to stop him.

The fried male Simia from the influence of Nayara plunged to his knees in front of Shiva. Expressing his gratitude.

"How about we make a deal?" Shiva said to the Simia male as he gazed at Nayara. "I will free your family from this demon in exchange for your loyal serving of my person."

The male didn't quickly respond.

"Isn't this a fair exchange? " Shiva resumed: "Do you want to spend the last of your days roaming, aimlessly, this ground?"

***

The small convoy that consisted of two carriages separated. Towards the sea's edge of the Crocotta's cliff left the first one led by the Simia male and his family. The second one continued south along the rocky road of the high plateau of Babel.

At the same time, Lord Shiva, amused, victorious, returned to the luxury of his own.

The Hippogriff carriage, normal-sized to the onlooker from the outside, it's interior, a salon of comfort and tranquillity.

It was bigger, wider, hosted multiple couches around a table, all set low to the ground furnished with sophisticated carpets. In a comfortable style.

The light inside was dim, Hendrickson asked as he sat inspecting a large canvas: "You look satisfied."

The canvas in front of him was supported straight by the small table. An intriguing shade of black and white established an ambiguous, abstract picture. Enough concentration is needed for the viewer to deconstruct its details.

Gravestone, white jasmines, and unrecognizable outline of an unidentified person.

"Nothing important." The said satisfaction was scrubbed, Shiva's boredom upheaved from the monotonous fact of Nicolai observing this painting for, like, the entire trip. He followed, testing: "Why did you kill Seaben?" He didn't foresee the upcoming reply.

"Weren't you deranged by his conduct?"

"Honestly, no." Shiva, being fashionably direct, aspired to taste Nicolai's built dejection, hate toward the butler. Also, he wasn't mendacious about what he felt: "Besides, he never dishonored my contract with him. His only shortcoming, the greed, he used more and more Chimera sacrifices, and I can guess who drove him to exceed the quota "

"You are right, he played well, but I have won in the end."

Upset by this dull reaction, Shiva, tacitly, pampered by the aroma of coffee.

The foundation of displeasure laid clear on his face as he watched over Nicolai's unbreakable fixation on the painting. It stemmed from the feeling of being ignored by a certain someone who clearly indulged himself in Lord Shiva's favor but refused to acknowledge the benefactor.

Facing the gloomy, silent Nicolai, Lord Shiva's chatty nature enforced those feelings of ingratitude. It made him wish that he never had bestowed his generosity on this man.


	66. Chapter Sixty-six : A link for interwoven destinations

"My Lord, what do you think of this painting?" Nicolai attempted to ease his benefactor's mood. At the same time, he desired an opinion. Half of his face sunk in the vicinity of his right palm, closely exploring the angry brush strokes and savoring the hidden meaning that slept between those lines.

Taken by surprise, Shiva's absent-minded eyes and busy mouth, kissing the edges of the coffee cup, alerted.

Was this a miracle? Or he was dreaming. Unfortunately, the canvas board was placed backward to his sightline.

Not discouraged by the inconvenience, he traded the luxury of his seat and settled next to Hendrickson.

Shiva didn't consider himself an expert when it related to painting. However, and without exaggeration, he enjoyed indulging his eyes in observing a good piece of art, especially those that depicted natural scenes.

This painting was the ideal opposite of his inclinations, gloomy, abstract and on the top, disastrously unfinished.

With the corner of his eyes, he skimmed a glance at the dazed Nicolai, not sure if he should play with the man's ego and praise this piece or be honest with himself and scorn it.

Lost between this and that, his unfocused vision stumbled on tiny written words. Shiva's pupils contracted to discern their meaning.

A poem… Rather a verse from a poem.

Brought up in a family versed in literature and poetry, Shiva cultivated a refined taste in both of them. He murmured after reading the verse: "Nice, I know this poem…"

"Hmm." Nicolai received the word as an ambiguous answer to his earlier inquiry: did the Lord compare the scene in the drawing to a depiction of a poem?

Quite rare, in light of Lord Shiva's vast expertise in the field.

He got it all wrong.

Shiva irked that approval look on Hendrickson's face. It cut to his hesitation to scorn the man's ego, at least indirectly: "I meant the verse of the poem."

"Poem?"

Finger-pointing at the small white gibberish drawn on the headstone in the painting, Lord Shiva contemplated Savannah's tip-off. She didn't exaggerate when she informed him that the man, the renowned Seer, was going blind: "Here, on the headstone, in tiny lines,"

Ashamed of being obvious about his fascination, Nicolai hinted approving:

" Right, there is tiny writing, I didn't see it."

A clear confession… from Nicolai about his novel visually impaired condition.

Truthfully, this confession wasn't free. It was because he was unable to read the word; It was his way to discretely ask his companion to recite it and elaborate.

Heart flattered by pity, Shiva picked up on the discreet hint. For a thriving instant, he thought he was immature, childish, more than it should be. In a clear voice, he declaimed:

"The city is in its fortieth birthday."

Then, where is its dim color? What is this fragrant flower?

Vanquished. Here, under, lay its legacy.

A goodbye greeting to a leader. One day he was among conquerors."

Shiva added when he didn't receive an opinion: "You should know this blank verse, It's from a famous epic that immortalized the chronicle of the Colossus. You know my family roots… "

He paused when the feelings of being ignored transcended the surrounding air since he didn't receive an agreement or disagreement about his narrative. The process of affirming his feelings made his heart shudder.

Two straight brooks embarrassed Nicolai's expressionless visage. Gushed silent and calm. His eyelids were paralyzed to shut, in fear of turning those shallow brooks into a stream.

For several seconds, he didn't shift his eyes from the incomplete painting. As if he was unaware of this emotional burst.

At last, two fingers pressed slightly on his eyes. "Sorry…" The voice was hoarse, tattered, reflecting what was already apparent. "I couldn't surpass it."

Shiva, a sentimental being as he liked to describe his existence, Baffled, thrilled, delighted. This vivid range of mixed sensations, only Savannah in rage was capable of stirring them.

Compared, Hendrickson was a flavorless blend in his tight control. Whereas the broken Nicolai, at this exact moment, rendered the almighty Lord Shiva awfully satiated.

Faking nonchalance while drifting his body to the comfortable couch, head high and eyes glancing in secret, uneasy. Shiva needed to say something, anything, whatever thing….

"You should cry more."

"...."

"It's good for your health."

Ready to accept some kind of scolding, maybe a little reprimand for his evident fulfilled delight... The waiting extended...

Shiva startled at the man beside him, silently sobbing fervently as if mourning his death.

***

Rokah's companion was no less calm. Riding the slow horse carriage to Babel, sniveling, and moans echoed over the environmental solitude. It collided with the sounds of horses' hooves hitting the solid unpaved ground and won over.

Acting on his amassed irritation, Rokah demanded with a placid face; his focus never left the road. "Shut up or I will leave you here."

The gorgeous woman stole a glance between her wrapped arms. Eyes all red and swollen. A stream of tears made the transparent scales on her face glow.

Endorsing his indifferent profile, the woman raised her head, all blame. "Yes, you should have left me to die there."

The carriage's irregular motion paused, abruptly.

The young, mysterious man next to her gestured with his head: Get down.

Naya's tired wit didn't absorb the meaning, but when she did, she exclaimed: "What? You want to leave a gorgeous woman alone, in the middle of nowhere?"

Glares escaped Rokah's odd-colored eyes: "Then, stop wailing." since he didn't fathom the reason for her cries. That other horned man didn't do a thing to her. Expect nullifying spells and freeing that poor Simia family from her grasp.

The carriage started moving and the standing up woman almost fell off. "You barbaric thing…"

After she settled down, Rokah finally looked at her. "What?" she snapped at him: "Focus on the road."

What an unpleasant woman, she must grow rotten throughout spoiling.

"Who is the man you met earlier?" Rokah, getting to the point.

"An uncivilized man like you."

"Then, must be a demon-like you." His cynical tone flounced Nayara in anger.

It was an expected reaction, a purposeful aim on his part. The first time Rokah called her a demon, she danced in flames. Perhaps he will secure better information if she is in disarray.

"Don't call me that, I am not a demon nor a devil. We are sentimental beings, we get moved by other chaotic emotions, we thrive on fulfilling their yearnings, desires, and dreams."

"Oh…" Not impressed, Rokah proceeded to his next inquiry.

"Who is Savannah?"

No answer…

"You said you have sensed my presence for hours. How come that man didn't?"

Again, no answer…

The silence, festered with tangible animosity, fermented the mutual vigilance to a suffocating ambiance. Naya didn't support the crushing weight and succumbed first. She strived to shatter it.

" Maybe because you are an empty shell. No desires, no wishes, no dreams, gushed from you. A hollow container you are..."

"Nonsense!"

The suffocating ambiance breezed through this interruption. Rokah didn't acknowledge its re-emergence, he added to seal his partiality: "I do have a desire, a pressing one…"

"To get to Babel, to find someone or something you didn't even know?" Naya unimpressed. "This is not a desire… It's more like being controlled, induced."

The horse carriage halted, abruptly, for the second time. Naya exclaimed the sudden pause as her body swung forward, almost falling off: "Hey…"

The cold young man she was looking at, this moment, was detached from reality, floating below the existence and above nothingness. There was a trace of undetectable loss emanating from his soulless void.

Naya swallowed; Oh… Isn't this unruffled Savannah kind of flavor? Far, thin, and completely addictive.

***

The other carriage mounted by the Simia family arrived at the Crocotta’s cliff and stopped in a village that hosted only a special variety of Chimeras.

The residents greeted them with open arms, served them food, hosted them.

The Simia male delivered Lord Shiva's letter to the main house. He found himself appointed as Butler to the big house, serving women who looked like divinities messengers.

Contented by his new position, his new home, his new village, he strived to honor the contract between him and his savior, Lord Shiva.

An unpleasant smile forced itself on Surveen's thin lips.

"You can start work tomorrow." out of all the sort of Chimeras she had encountered, she despised, especially Simias." After you have settled down, you can bring your family in the next few days."

The Simia male in front of her was oblivious, clumsy to the desirable manners of high society. Soon, he will get accustomed to the various needs of predators.

The main house of the village drastically changed, not in its architectural forms, but rather in its atmosphere.

Who knows that the change of seasons, or maybe ownership, or maybe both will cause a radical transformation.

For Surveen, the house is now much livelier, vivid, and brighter compared to when she arrived.

Every single window wide naked, its transparent glass allowed the cheerful spring sunlight to embrace the dreariness of the gloomy corridors. Sometimes servants let the air invade a couple of hours after the sunrise.

In short, this place can be a paradise, if handled right.

With a short quick tap on the door, she announced her presence, and, more accurately, she demanded permission to enter.

Esere Akila crouched beside the bed, reading in some notebook she was holding for days.

Their eyes collided, allowing Surveen the opportunity to ask for an update: "How is Kanari?"

"Her breathing is stable, but she didn't wake up." Akila's hand caressed her daughter's forehead. "Everything is done?"

"Yes." Surveen's tone indicated that she didn't finish her inquiry. While Akila waited for her to summon the courage and ask.

"What happened to Kanari? Could it be the battleship's special fuel?"

The Kilioz have long since departed.

Akila pushed the notebook to the bed table, adjusted Kanari covers before she ruminated.

"To be honest, it is a family matter, nothing is connected to an outside attack." Her vision hovered around Surveen, falling on each detail except Surveen's face. The latter grew quite curious.

"Those troublemakers of mine teamed up, yet again to increase my workload."

"I may, can help."

Naturally, Akila wasn't going to spill the container of her personal trouble if she didn't expect Surveen to offer her help. But wanting favor in handling her children's hurdles skewed away from her craved objective. Something like a pretense, or a better fit, like making a scapegoat.

What she desired was something else, thus she continued divulging the much-real state of affairs, gaining both sympathy and paving a Silk Road for her true intentions:

"She is suffering the consequences of practicing a banned technique."


	67. Chapter Sixty-seven : A risky ploy quest

Surveen received Akila's admission as if the latter was partially accountable for her daughter's fault and recklessness.  
  
The Esere's eyelashes lowered toward the notebook, then to Kanari's listless figure. Regrets conquered any feelings of vexation that dwelt in her heart. A rare sight of Akila's wild, serene demeanor.  
  
Unlike Savannah, the renowned black star, the genius void ambassador, whom she was at best cordial in family settings, formal considering the clan affairs. Kanari was Surveen's dear little sister. Hard-working, sedulous, often bashful, sometimes hesitant, and stubborn. Albeit not capable or famous like her big sister, there was something to her that set her apart, and paralleled her name with her mother. More importantly, she was unbearably talented at it.  
  
Kanari, as defined by norms, a born animator, a person capable of granting life. Though not natural, It was neither related to the filthy sinister art of necromancy.  
  
A unique, rare gift in the realm of divinities. Sole the god able to create life.  
  
Hmm, A banned technique…  
  
All techniques small or big governed a form of retribution. Kind of wage.  
  
Banned techniques ruled dear retributions and a soaring price.  
  
Surveen was clueless about the art of animation, its functions, its laws. She required Esere Akila's explanations.  
  
The tenebrous consequences that towered over Kanari's well-being if the said indiscernible link between her and the object of her art wasn't severed…  
  
"An indefinite transaction." Akila declared: "It is amidst the most hazardous outcome that animator fears and trains mastering."  
  
"An amateur mistake?" Akila's lofty mien darkened.  
  
"Indefinite transaction risks are lower when performing a standard animation, however, it grows unavoidable in cases of complex ones." Akila's intense regret burst; for her leniency upon discovering Kanari animation attempt and not severing it personally, her self-inculpatory hammered any bit of wrath directed against the young heedless exploitation.  
  
She said describing the entailed hazard's  
  
" It's a profound coma, a state between life and death. It began slowly with the animator losing a great deal of his agility, the performance of his basic senses will decline, the ability to think, concentrate and move will follow after, then, a coma… All in favor of the object of his animation."  
  
"Then we should…"  
  
"Destroy the said animated object."  
  
"That's an easy task."  
  
"Yes." Akila's eyes flickered as she waited for Surveen's enlightenment. It pleased her that her motive remained indiscernible. Quite rare from an individual of Surveen caliber. She must really sympathize with Kanari. " I have sent Savannah a letter through Lord Shiva, ordering her to destroy the animated object."  
  
"Lord shiva..." Wasn't he giving Hendrickson a ride to Babel...  
  
A flash of light struck Surveen.  
  
"Savannah is in Babel?" She clearly remembered that she had informed Savannah when she had met her in the forest to present herself in front of the control committee in Ashur for an interrogation.  
  
When her report on the Mt. Ninurta affair will be submitted, Savannah's absence will be considered as an act of disobedience. Her punishment will be severe, and without doubts, rumors about her intentional involvement will flame the general opinion.  
  
Impetuous… What is Savannah aiming to accomplish with this illogical series of actions?  
  
No wonder Esere Akila's trouble never ends.  
  
The only way Surveen found fit to help solve Akila's family troubles was by delaying her submission of the Mt. Ninurta report.  
  
Hesitant to give her words, Surveen strode near the bed, gazing at Kanari's lifeless face. Inside her chest, an uprising clashed, her sympathy against her responsibilities…  
  
Laws were a set of stones, blind and frigid. They existed to ensure orders, made to prevent anarchy. However, on occasions, they produce disorders, ignite ambiguous paths to cruelty.  
  
Retarding the report delivery for few more days, the weight of someone's life at the stake, in Surveen's heart the balance set crystal clear. Enkindling righteous predicaments.  
  
This was how the Esere of the Crocotta’s clan obtained both of her desired objectives. Delivering Kanari out from the consequences of her reckless practice. And savoring enough time to explore Savannah's late strange behavior.  
  
Praise to her patience, bravado, and accurate timing to delay amputating Kanari's link with her animation in prospect to save both girls by throwing one stone.  
  
"Esere, what about your upcoming meeting with the master of Mt. Enlil?" Surveen's voice carried a pitch of liberation after she made her mind.  
  
"I don't have much choice with an eccentric man like him. I must go, no matter what." she nodded, "I will leave the farm and Kanari in your hands, I hope it won't multiply your workload."  
  
"Rather, it will make a logical excuse to the control committee." Surveen walked near the door, there was just one last inkling: "Did Hendrickson tell you how he lost the farm? How that Hématophage found his way inside."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you believe him?"  
  
"Hmm... Maybe half of it."  
  
***  
  
Oblivious to all her mother's worries and struggle to buy time, Savannah invested a great deal of effort shaping a piece of wood into a scythe embodiment.  
  
Sculpturing crusty wood oozed out from the era of her skills.  
  
She obtained a chunk of satisfaction by managing a simple approach in impersonating the scythe from using two sticks. One straight, the other slightly curved, and fixing them together in precise point with a strap.  
  
The time peeled quickly, the orange sunlight projected between the earth and the sky in a majestic scene akin to an apocalypse.  
  
Two figures emerged, unscratched. Impossible tall shadows quivered on the ground, approaching at a steady pace.  
  
She waited agile as her hunt loomed through the horizon.  
  
It was past the new moon.  
  
The wooden like scythe twirled up and down as Savannah blocked the two travelers' road.  
  
Wearing the humble manners, the wooden scythe danced formally in front of her, lowered head down, eyes closed, she murmured: "You were late."  
  
The silence ate away Isidore's surprising features. Aloofness mastered the mutual exchange.  
  
Savannah spayed over one half-opened eye, testing the water. The humble act dropped, "I guess, you saw through my ploy."  
  
"It was too good to be true."  
  
That night, when she handed down the permits to the Kerit, instructing him to bring the Amarok along…  
  
It was a calculated move that came with a high stake.  
  
If the Kerit chose to flee alone, he would have bypassed the Clan territory by now.  
  
If he followed her instruction, the non-recovered Amarok will slow the Kerit down.  
  
Savannah bet triumphed. Not because of sheer luck, but because she based it on a logical judgment.  
  
The mysterious doctor cared for the Amarok, attended to his health.  
  
The Kerit recognized the doctor's identity, he rather seemed concerned about the doctor's fate and what had happened to him. Thus, he will probably leave the Amarok to his fate.  
  
"If you have figured out my ploy, why insist on bringing the Amarok with you?" Savannah, all smiles and drunk over her victory.  
  
The Kerit helped boast it to the sky: "You outsmarted me, I didn't figure it, till the night of the new moon."  
  
Just arrived, the Amarok emerged from behind the big man. "I told you, do not believe them,"  
  
"Should he leave you in the forest?"  
  
"Should I leave you in the forest?"  
  
Both answered him at the same time.  
  
The silence hovered again. It resembled the first time they had met, yet the atmosphere pressed for more wickedness and threat.  
  
The strand of sunlight withdrew under the cloak of night. It was a moonless blackness. Sinister glow reflected on three pairs of eyes. One was pale yellow, the second painted in gold, and the third, marked with an aurora of crimson blood.  
  
Facing the obscure risks of nature, the normal range of different senses inflate. Superior predators summon their esoteric perceptions to hunt or to fight.  
  
The red gleam sealed under eyelids, Isidore breathing firm, watchful. The pale yellow that jammed his path shone with resolve and determination. Nobody shall move away unless blood muddied the ground thirst or hidden secrets shall be unsheltered.  
  
"What is your story with him? What did he do to you?" Isidore scratched the ice.  
  
"I am the one who asks questions?"  
  
The wooden scythe rolled the air before clattering the earth by the tip. Flutter climbed Isidore's solid legs and paused there. He felt the shaking in his Lycan companion as the other handheld into his arm searching for support.  
  
Savannah's pale yellow narrowed, intensified: "Who is Rokah, what is his true identity?"  
  
"A born healer…" Isidore said apathetically.  
  
Fluster and fear dominated Uriah's words, how not when he experimented with the degrading effects of the Crocotta’s black star. "I told you, I do know nothing about him, I was half-conscious, he treated me like he treated any other patient of his."  
  
"We mythical creatures, a mere beast without a consciousness, mere humans without our empyrean form." Isidore's eyes flared a light of reminiscence: "After roaming Ea's forest for decades, a doctor managed to cure my condition."  
  
Savannah observed him, her sensitive eyes could trace his figure. Pity touched her heart. Animal sanity was one of the two conditions the mythical creatures feared the most.  
  
Isidore added contemplating, "If you have met him then it must be in a context of a serious injury or an illness."  
  
The bulky man hit the nail and missed it. This wasn't why Savannah absorbed the heed of the doctor. She didn't suffer physical injuries or have that kind of illness. Or so...  
  
Were they even talking about the same person?  
  
"He often likes to temper with his appearance. It sprang from his desire of wanting to be wrongly judged by others or that what he had told me."  
  
Savannah swallowed air, listening hungrily: "Now, I think he was to a certain level right. Most people grounded their judgment on superficial miens."  
  
Savannah's focus whirled, "You mean, neither I got his name right nor I know how he looks." Her awareness weathered under the recollection of fleeing memory:  
  
Dissatisfaction, rage, loss, an acute state of agony… She dragged her heavy feet.  
  
The legions of people come and go. The market resembled a house of bees, berserk and restless. Infuriating whirs flooding the sensitive and insensitive ears, ferociously.  
  
A stranger walked near her… seemed unnoticed by others but her. Jarring, distinct features, Devoid of colors. Spotless white, maybe an angel. Odd hued eyes plugged her path.  
  
A hamming akin to a dying person's last wish:  
  
"My Lady, would you grant me the honor to draw you?"  
  
The screaming cries of Babel market swallowed under the harmonious stillness. Nonchalantly accepting this unusual request, Savannah's life would never be the same.


	68. Chapter Sixty-eight: A farewell greeting to regrets

Welcome to Babel, the megalopolis of legends, where the time flows slower, sometimes faster than it's supposed to be.

The outer walls of the city are graced by a green outfit, woven under the climbing plant's orders. Few specific corners were ornamented by blooming flowers, dyeing them with spring flavor.

The vast ground inside meant for agricultural activities, other fields intended prairies for animals, tamed or wild.

Some villages scattered here and there, and the population grew denser with each phase near the heart of the city.

Infatuated by every inch, the land that looked so familiar yet tantalizing new, had its kind of allure, compared to the snowy mountains of Innyana or the smoky forests of Ea. Rokah led the carriage in a self-contained, nonchalant facade. Though his face betrayed him, the moment he snatched glimpses of the erected structures materializing from afar.

The inner walls of the city roared through the lofty clouds. Immense blue glazed bricks mounted each other in an awing pattern. A sculptural relief depicted winged lions, dragons, and other flying beasts in precise intervals. Majestic, dreadful, mesmerizing to the newcomers, honorary to its inhabitants.

But nothing set higher than the lustrous, wonder, Babel tower. Partially destroyed, partially under construction, yet unraveled.

The smell of torrential freshwater transcended the fragrance of flora. Moisture and pure humidity. It's soothing rhythm calmed the most tenacious spirits.

The drowsy Naya lifted the curtain on her glassy eyes. She confounded the glazed blue with the color of the sky. The realization slapped her awake, pulling the bridle in Rokah's hands, yelling: "Where are you going?"

She hastily took the control before directing the carriage farther to the east. "Are you nuts? Do you think commoners can use the sacred blue gate whenever they want?"

Without protest, Rokah let her fulfill the primary aim behind bringing her with him. It's also allowed him the freedom to scrutinize the area. To be fascinated, marveled over the creative divinity.

The carriage was guided marginally with the inner walls. The wind exposed caps of guardians atop. Armed, agile.

The prickling sensation of intermittent glimpses, the pent-up curious attention tumbled Rokah's jaw. Snow-white eyelashes lowered rhythmically with the ups and downs of the wheels.

"One question against one." He declared to the interrogative look of the woman. Her regard like needles tormenting his neck.

Without further persuasion, she asked: "Why do you need the Crocotta permit?"

"To pass through their territory."

"No, this is not what I meant."

"It's my turn." He protested, refusing to face her: "Who is that horned man?"

"Megalomaniac jerk." She superficially answered, dropping vengeance stars at him…

Rokah adjusted his position denoting seriousness. "Fair enough, what have you meant?"

The floppy road got busier when the public gate tottered in the air.

"Not everybody needs a permit of passage to get through the Crocotta lands." She was focusing on the path as the traffic increased.

Interest tainted Rokah's vague eyes, dyeing them into a shade akin to doubt. "No, everyone needs a permit to pass through their lands." A false confirmative sentence. Rokah's common trap to instigate people's self-protective instinct to veil their statements, their beliefs. The urge to be right turn people into a marionette that offers explanations for free.

Witnessing the frowns building between her eyebrows, a victorious sweetness stuffed the inside of his mouth.

"Obviously you are ignorant about the Permit of passage aim." She started with an insult, the second clue of Rokah's successful provocation.

"In reality, the permits are monitoring tools. Only those who need to show their good intentions are obligated to carry them." She smugly looked at the terrified albino next to her: "The permits are a tracking device. In another word, the Crocottas uses them to locate those untrustworthy peoples whereabouts. Those who refuse to carry them. Naturally, it shows their ill intentions towards the Crocottas."

Hastily, the horrible realization in Rokah's chest spoke loud: "How far is their range?"

This question drew her absurd mockery, the scorn of wonder replaced the frowns; Was he mocking her? Who doesn't know that the divinities are divinities because of their link to the heavenly bodies, to the bright star formations of the sky?

Range?

Their range is the sky.

Nayara's intuition propped a superficial answer about this strange man. Perhaps he was a victim to a severe process of brainwashing, crawled in a long false indoctrination. It decoded his lack of sensuality, the handful of uncorrelated memories, and the sense of fulfilling a precise mission.

As Rokah bared his inner turmoil in an instant of fragility, letting himself mercilessly gauged, dissected, judged by the dangerous, glamorous woman beside him. His entire world spiraled around the memories of Mr. Hendrickson's words, gestures, gazes. The twist of his lips, the satisfaction of his breaths. The perfect elaborated plan he prepared to kill the butler, conjuring it in such a narrow time. Suddenly, all of Rokah's previous observations fall in their right spot.

Weighed, the breast-pocket in which Rokah secured the permit in fear of its loss. His rib cage burst under the suffocating heaviness.

The big picture, now, is fogless.

In the end, Hendrickson was playing a chess game, not against the Crocotta but against the magus who played the role of a butler.

Rokah allowed himself to be the man's pawn in exchange for answers, truths, freedom. Yet he got used, manipulated, for what?… To allow himself to be effortlessly tracked down by the Crocotta under the blessing of Hendrickson…

A spout of blood rushed pursuing the relief, explosions rocked all over his body.

This must be Hendrickson's ultimate ploy from the beginning. Disguised behind membranes of fragility. And an envelope of compassion.

The perception of betrayal Rokah thought he grew immune to it, ripped his soul shreds.

Is there a thing akin to compassion in this world?

That man, much like the Crocotta, intended to use him, then sell him back when his desires got fulfilled.

Glaring at the isotoxal octagram seal. The black ink. What is he going to do with this tracking device?

Tear it?

Burn it?

Rokah seized Naya's wrist, stopping the carriage. The force he applied reflected the chaos boiling inside. Her protesting cries withered along with the breeze. He jumped, the dust encircled his boots. Quickly, he disappeared into the crowds.

Mr. Hendrickson's entire plan must have progressed like this;

He somehow forecasted the carriage the butler was going to ride. He tempered with its wheels as well as he tucked the permit between the butler's things. Then he lied to Rokah, telling him that the butler stole his permit while offering it in exchange for the butler's life.

Forcefully gasping the air, the crowds departing the city, like a stormy ocean, trapped the stray lamps in its current.

It was one win, risky, designed situation. No matter the outcome, Hendrickson will receive the Crocottas blessing by offering them to the two rebels.

If the butler killed Rokah, the Crocotta will track the butler down

If Rokah killed the butler, the Crocotta will successfully track him down.

Rokah, skilfully, tucked the permit between the luggage of some travelers.

Exiting the strong waves of passengers, he followed them with his eyes, till they vanished in the distance.

In the end, he couldn't decide, being enraged by this physically crippled man or awed by his unparalleled wit.

No need for dramatic breakdowns, no need for regrets. He only had to outsmart the man.

"Where were you?" The bored Naya, at the side of the road, exclaimed.

"Just looking around," he surveyed the carriage: "Thank you for waiting."

She, as well, noticed the contrast change in temper, before he went and after he came.

He would be a very interesting fellow, if not for the emptiness in his soul.

As he took place next to her, the friendliness outshone his cold previous appearance." I noted something momentous when I approached the main path." The leather bridle throbbed under the firm yet unsettled hands.

The off-road carriage joined the noise of the main paved path. "See… Each and every individual entering or departing the city is in a perfect humanoid form as if they were humans themselves." He articulated, slightly raising his voice, guaranteeing that the hubbub won't be able to surpass it.

"Yes," Nayara yelled, "This is the law of the civilization. "A fling of discontent knotted Naya's eyebrows; that's not fair, why she was the only one giving answers…

After, the carriage dived into silence. Only the noise from the outside came cracking the wall of stillness.

Rokah anticipated malevolence. Eyeing the profile of the woman. Peril transpired through her skin. She possibly guessed what had Rokah done with the permit.

"The Crocotta didn't give me the permit, I found it in a carriage debris." He declared, eagerly waiting for a reaction, a sign of her inner thoughts.

The carriage stopped in a long queue. The identity confirmation and registration routine will take time. The security at the entrance of the city as severe as the circulating rumors tell.

" What a fair Lady in your caliber was doing in a harsh land?" Allowing this woman's agenda sagging smoothly, a hazard, Rokah refused to let pass.

After all, this woman had some kind of connection with Lady Savannah. A chance meeting between the two and his sacrifice will be meaningless.

When he settled on giving up the permit, the odds of him entering the city, the effortless way, scattered into a thin air. Or so he thought. Little he knew about the real, actual strife between the Babel elites and the northern cities.

Securing Naya eternal silence, a wish impossible to achieve. Demons are tricky beings. A complex manifestation. You can interact with them, feel them, sometimes see them. But touching them was a whole another story.

How can Rokah exterminate something he couldn't even touch?

She avoided looking at him: "I was searching for someone." Her voice distorted into the neighboring jabbers. The timber of sadness, yearning, tailored amid the indistinct syllables. Her focus strayed, skimming everything, refusing to surrender.

Rokah gaping at her, imbued. He identified a tuft of beauty and a flood of an invisible danger.

She didn't wait for him; she ratted him out.


	69. Chapter Sixty-nine : A crisp of uncertainty

Two, three, five…

Five faces against the sea of people. Pushed upstream. Manners of roughness and discipline shaped their solemn visages.

One unique uniform.

One unique emblem.

Rokah stood high in the carriage, towering over the covered and the uncovered scalps, pursuing an overall dominance. Like rings of chain enclosing, he felt trapped in a solid web. His colorless hair, white skin, his odd-colored eyes rendered him nude, a recognizable target.

Without moving his head, side glances scanned Nayara's profile. The guilty halo falsified her indifferent mask. But The stubbornness bordered her look and won over.

A rough hand forced his head, strained his neck.

He learned this lesson twice. Panic, anger, will merely worsen his stand. Escape? Hard, and it will confirm whatever charges this woman forged to blame him for…

Shoved into his knees, head down, hands immobilized. The dusty ground, the muddling shoes topped the extent of his vision.

Murmurs, gurgles conquered the bottom of his ears and dispersed, lacking meaning. He barely separated proper words.

The Aramaic, the supposed official language in Babel, Rokah couldn't decipher the familiar somehow the unfamiliar sounds.

A dialect…

A jarring force almost sundered his arm from his body. Consequently, his body slid with an overwhelming flow. Aching knees, sore muscles hindered the difficult advance. Aware of it, the guards didn't waste an ounce of pity. When he tripped, they dragged him mercilessly.

Strangely, this kind of treatment, Rokah felt it, akin to a previous ancient routine. He despised this sense of déjà vu. This taste of humiliation was bitter.

Far from the barbed touches of the spring sun and the delicate scent of a cool breeze. The underground cell lurked with the constitutional decadence and the oppression of withered souls. An occult chill outstripped the skin and goes upright to the flame of existence, freezing it.

As he pushed inside. His heels stuck in a mellow thing, between a fuzzy rot of death and tender fat of leaving.

Startled, the cell had its own inhabitants. Numerous. Faceless. Darkness devoured most of their features. Not questioning his recent ability to see through the obscurity, Rokah's eyes traveled the four corners, swiping each and every material into his consideration.

The comfortable spots in the back and front were all occupied. Resting his back to the rods, he dwelled in a long journey of meticulous calculations.

However, his brain was exhausted, his spirit drained dry.

He didn't come to Babel to be a rat.

He came to Babel because of his thirst, an unyielding impulse, seraphic calls to reunite with someone or something. His life and death, empty, pointless if he didn't fulfill those urges.

Breath after breath, a sigh after sigh. Nerves strained with dark thoughts, hopelessness. In this kind of forgotten place, time stops. Seconds became hours, hours turned into days. And the dark side people strive to control flares, vividly, like a dying star.

Rokah wasn’t an exception. Like every prisoner, he strived for a tiny excuse, a simple intimidating look, a near hiss.

In face of uncertainty and grave limitations, his earlier exerted self-control had diminished. The chains of his raging repression burned every spot for rationality.

He exploded, freeing the accumulated frustrations. Hate. Directed at himself, his surroundings, the world, and everything else.

Alarmed by the outbreak of rebellion, guards stormed like an ocean wave.

*** *** ***

Past the buzz of disorders to the routine of daily life. Babel basked in sunlight. Roads crowded, markets fraught. And every inch screamed alive. However, for some, life had cast away its adornments. Only left its gloomy face hanging amidst the shadows.

The recorded piano music played and replayed, endlessly, like a waterfall.

The scent of Jasmine impregnated the dusted room. The dark solid curtains defeated the uninvited sunrays.

Tiny red drops fell into a glass. Merged with pure water.

Nicolai quaffed the blend, hoping for clearance from this intolerable thirst.

In this whirlpool of forgetfulness, he played his thoughts along with the sad rhythm. Over and over. Seeking an escape from this ichor dependency.

Soon, the small bottle will be dried out. And then, like a dog, will chase after Francis everywhere the latter goes.

It drove him insane, butchered his heart apart, crushed his soul, how the situation had reversed.

The soothing rhythm stopped… Waking him up.

Startled by the materializing silhouette of wings, Nicolai faked attention in the crumpled paper in his hand: "You are a lost cause." He said to give his act a solid push.

Black lines are woven on a faultless white paper. His dark pupil roamed the unrecognizable thin dark gibberish. "What is this?"

"The opal circlet," Shiva fixed the curtains to secure air of low lighting. "Since it's hard to find something you didn't see before, I figured an illustration will help…"

"Oh,..." A sarcastic breath, "Please my Lord, you are better-using words."

"Did you make any progress?" A set-up presumed question was thrown out by Shiva, its hidden meaning partially escaped Nicolai wit.

To demonstrate to this demon that he is not yet blind, he needed to show off.

The headache knocked on his temple as he prepared to honor the accord between him and Savannah. Weakness pulled at his eyes, Iris split in two. Sclera veins bulged from the effort.

Behind a bravado facade, he locked the pain and exertion, rebutted to entertain Shiva more than he already did.

If he succeeded in spotting the jewelry whereabouts, Savannah will leave Rokah to him. At least for a certain time or so, this was their agreement.

The other man kept his gaze glued at Nicolai's direction. Anticipating, observing. The low light obscured the delicate details of his profile. And served as a hideout.

Careful, Shiva strode closer, confident, hungry. A predatory atmosphere throttled the room.

Nicolai jerked his head left: "Did you know?" his eyebrows lowered, signaling a great deal of concentration: "Your brother-in-law is here."

The statement melted Lord Shiva's enthusiasm, freezing him: "Really…"

A split-pupil marginally glared at the horned man. Two irises swam in the white reddened sclera, hovering.

"Where?" An edgy inquiry eloped under Shiva's lips as he retreated.

"In Etemenanki, the ziggurat of Marduk."

Astounded, Nicolai closed his eyes, pulled his head in the opposite direction.

"What?" The winged man asked.

"He sensed me, watching."

"Who?" Shiva swallowed: "My brother-in-law?"

"No,..." Eyes still shut, Nicolai moved towards the sofa, discarding the jolt he just felt into its comfy garments.

"Who?" Shiva insisted.

"Marduk," Nicolai confessed, reluctantly.

Fingers pressed lightly on his eyes. Teeth grinding behind his lips. Nicolai damned his recklessness, the insecurity that pumped by his wavering heart. Just now, the new degraded extent of his clairvoyance has been successfully tested.

What an embarrassment, a pity, falling for an obvious, childish trick as a provocation.

He couldn't open his eyes to witness the horned man's reaction, not only from soreness but also from disgrace.

Bathed in the dim light, dark thick scales surfaced on the back of Shiva's neck, under the folds of the unrestrained hair. His expressions inundated with uncertain contradiction, the most prominent, sluggishness. Disappointed, he lodged the words of displeasure under his tongue:

Ah, he figured it out quickly, shame; I was hoping for another breakdown.

"Then, shouldn't you start telling me how this precious jewelry of yours looks like?" Nicolai's cynical comment brought Shiva from the pit of his anticlimax.

The horned man was quick to recuperate, he shamelessly threw his body next to Nicolai, spun his neck to eye the seer, the right corner of his mouth lifted:" Honestly Nicolai, tell me why you want to help us. I mean, why you want to help Savannah?"

The Seer kept his eyelids shut. No answer, no reaction,... Nothing at all.

A sigh escaped Shiva's mouth, his smirk melted under the cold treatment. Despite that, he wasn't discouraged:" If you tell me, I may give you plus benefit."

"I believe, she had already told you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah… You may be able to persuade Savannah with shallow explanations, but not me."

Three distinct round irises in one eye arranged like heads of triangle focused on Lord Shiva's visage, "I understand now," the other eye stayed shut, "I understand why you don't want me to inquire about this jewelry. It must have quite a value."

Shiva pulled his face away at the sight of the trigon. He stood up, avoiding a farther direct eye contact, the tone of his voice changed: "Ahh, you are overestimating my possession, dear Hendrickson." Shiva ached to read Nicolai's face but feared all of his secrets being spilled out if he took even a quick glance.

Oh, god, this is dangerous. He exceeded Nicolai's threshold with his provocation. He should have worn a few more layers of protection.

It was just one ounce of dare.

If Shiva looked behind him at that moment, he would have perceived the tears of blood drawing a crimson line. A face succumbed miserably to the lord of pain. Consciousness at the edge of the blackout. However, Shiva's secrets were more relevant than any challenge.

"Are we going to waste more time?"

Gilding his tone with Sarcasm. The strain that pulled on Nicolai's nerves began to dissipate.

The opportunity for a quick brisk surfaced as Lord Shiva proceeded in lengthy prose, describing the opal circlet.

"An oval stone, the shape of a complete moon,..." Fearing the outcome of a direct confrontation, Shiva didn't turn his back until he left.

The room oppressed air breathed resolution. The rhythmic tune of tranquillity came back under the blessing of soothing music.

Nicolai's shut-in eyes challenged the darkness. Yet the drowsiness of dispersing and languor took him. Fighting this temptation, he drowned in parallel lengthy speculations.

An opal gemstone.

Of extreme importance to Lord Shiva and Savannah.

He can imagine the cliché scenario. However, he wondered, was it the same gemstone that belonged to the colubrine black dragon of Mt. Ninurta that Shiva joined the operation solely to get his hands on it.

Recalling the glaring, the discontent, the lion eyes of Marduk fulminated annoyance. His invaded privacy, he didn't savor its rotten aroma.

This unwelcomed encounter, exactly what Mr. Hendrickson needed to muddle his situation further. He must change his current location now.


	70. Chapter Seventy : A sinful whisper from devil

As if the benediction of fate set with the sunlight. Once again, Rokah was forced to his knees a second time in one day. Hopeless, unable to resist. Red strips glamoured his head and clothes with conclusive evidence of desperation.

The guards hit his back, boots slammed his face in consecutive cadence.

Restrained by metal, he could only receive punishment. The sole consolation he felt sprouted from the painful screams that reached his ears. He wasn't the only one being reprimanded. All his cellmates, for several minutes, shared an identical reproof. His pain will be twofold if he was innocent.

These verities, fabricated charges, collective punishment, blurred the blinding awe he constructed upon upholding the splendor of Babel. It discolored some of his false beliefs. Even grandiose civilization thrived upon a morphism of gray zones.

The beating stopped once the fatigue impaled the muscles and joints of the guards. Those who couldn't support their weight to walk suffered few more blows. While the others carried the extra baggage of fatigue caused by pain in their injured legs.

Rokah, as he swung the heaviness of exhaustion, followed the other prisoners in a straight line under the piercing gaze of guards.

The line drifted steadily, allowing him the luxury of printing the architectural details of the place, the strategic positions for surveillance. And locating the blind areas for successful sneaking.

The night finally conquered the last remains of sunlight. Cast a veil of an eeriness around the prisoners, also around the guards. It revealed a crucial mark that escaped Rokah's careful observations. Was it because of his wounded nose or because of his disturbed mind…

Under the humanoid appearances and between the head-wear materials of the guards, the rotten smell of decomposition drifted over their bodies, clothes, weapons exposing their true origin…

Scavengers…

Consumers of death…

One hundred eighty degrees of Rokah's vision, about his escape, shifted direction. A realization, an epiphany…

A smooth path of his freedom paved upon the corpses of his cellmates, like an illusion bathed under the moonlight. It refused to leave his fantasy as a boost of enthusiasm wane over his pain. The ones who were before him, the others who were after him…

While he advanced, a step followed a step, he drowned deeper into this illusion of freedom.

How he was going to kill them?

One by one, or in bulk…

How he was going to speed up the putrefaction of their dead bodies…

Two forces clutched under his skin, his conscience of being a doctor, and his hatred toward the injustice. The world always finds ways to test his integrity, to subject him to make difficult choices.

He looked again at the one in front of him, counting the seconds to his inevitable collapse.

The guard run near kicked the barely alive body from the line. Their sequence of action, closely studied by certain odd-colored eyes. Disgust filled the reflection on them.

They babbled in words Rokah almost couldn't decipher. Yet he perceived the exhilarate tone, much like grateful sizzles invited to a feast.

Thoughts swarmed inward. What if his body is the one being eaten by Scavengers in honor of some strange ritual? It left a repulsive taste in his mouth. Bitter, nasty…

This terrible envisaged end filled his heart with horror, despite that he didn't fancy himself or value his existence much.

The line resumed the slow-motion and the fantasy of climbing stairs of corpses to escape this end smelled roses, tasted sweeter, and madly liberating.

Sacrificing others for the sake of oneself…

That tiny perk of being a doctor, a savior dimmed each time the boundaries of Rokah's professional ethics and his selfish limitations wrestle. The result, lately, always aligned with the dark side of his insecurities. For he was the vigilant type, an observer of the outside phenomena and the inside changes.

Rokah choked, terrified. He never expected to turn this way, for the sake of surviving... the line of his self-development. curved so much lately. From the naïve, self-loathing person to abhorrent, life hating, finally to a ruthless, cold-blooded carnivore.

To what extent he will walk over the principles he set?

As if he was disappearing, he was terrified of himself.

As if there was a monster trapped inside him, rapidly finding its way out… Making Rokah fade into nothingness.

The nightmare of his last retaliation evaporated. The fact, still hunting him at this moment. Weighted on his conscious, no matter how far he attempted to flee it.

The cries of the butler as he cut his limbs alive deafened his perception. The volatile blood under the trees' canopies, the smell of agony… But he was like somebody else...

Reflecting on his tormenting practice, it induced Rokah's memory to expel a forgotten piece of the puzzle he didn't want to acknowledge:

"A Sawbones is sacred, noble. Being a Sawbones won't fit you. Yes, you have a talent for it, yet your heart luck virtue. You will only end up tormenting more souls than saving them."

The voice of an old person, To who belongs those words… How he dare say to him he can't be a doctor?

A sudden force pressed on his shoulder resembles a light switch to wake him up. He collected his scattered focus, tugged his eyes, confronting the responsible. Cynicism indifference dominated his attitude.

" Doctor?"

Aghast, Rokah stared in silence. Someone has recognized him.

"What are you doing here?"

The question barely touched his ears, a flawless Aramaic pronunciation. Rokah, wide eyes concentrated on the person in front of him. The moonlight behind obscured this stranger's features. Counting only on the voice to recognize its owner, nothing rang a bell.

The man proceeded to talk to one of the guards. That flawless Aramaic switched into some closer dialect.

The gives and takes between the two lasted for a time. The slow movement of prisoners has stopped as a result. This session of dialog changed the rhythm from the calm question-answer phase to the scolding blaming stage.

Watching this interaction, Rokah understood. The stranger who spoke to him ranked higher on a scale of responsibility.

Then again, who could it be?

Why did he know him?

"I am sure there is some kind of mistake here." the stranger declared, a flawless command of the language enunciation while he directed his words to Rokah.

Following the man's movements under the meager light. Examining him, scanning the particular features. Rokah couldn't rekindle an ounce of familiarity about the stranger.

After the encounter, a weird development has followed. Freed from the heavy chains, Rokah was escorted to what seemed a hall, then to a prestigious office.

Fine papyrus scrolls brought by guards and organized on the stony, glazed desk.

The stranger proceeded to examine them while Rokah proceeded to observe him.

Traditional clothing, dense hair, and beard arranged in thick curls, long rectangular hate.

Signs of authority and pride kissed his manners. However, hints of athleticism overpowered the visible traces of academic upbringing.

If Rokah could point out someone that held an identical feel, it certainly would be the Aractanthrope of the doomed Chimera village despite the slight difference in size.

The man lifted his eyelashes, suggesting that he was aware of the intensified watching.

Hurriedly retreating his gaze, Rokah, wondering glances cascaded over the guards. They stood far, near the entrance, anxiety, nervousness devoured their mirthful attitude, fear groomed their earlier detestable cackles.

After an overstrained recalling effort, Rokah couldn't remember being an acquaintance with someone of such high caliber.

"Hmm, a Crocotta agent?" He flicked another scroll open, "Do you have proofs confirming the charges?"

Rokah's irises slid into the side, anticipating the guard's answer.

The panic molded inside their mouths, restricting any sound forming. Yet one of them confessed: "We are not the squad responsible for his incarceration."

"It's written here. He was incarcerated because of a testimony of a courtesan accusing him of working for the Crocotta. She said that he has a copy of their famous permit." Then, the high caliber man roamed the distance between Rokah and the guards, waiting…

Rokah's poker-face, a fortress that protected his internal turmoil from the inquisitive, prying eyes. For the man, the speech was a test to both; he and the guards at the same time.

A short pause followed, loaded with sharpened concentration and fierce competition. Faces exchanged glances. Who would give up first in this act?

"Did you search his belongings?"

"Yes, milord."

Rokah pressed breath, circulating turmoil discharged as the starting interrogation marked the test ends. Hopefully, he passed it.

Damn this permit, he almost killed himself to get it, and now it turned into a curse following him.

"Why don't see an account of the search?" Irritated, the scroll fell from his hands: "Did you find anything to incriminate the suspect?"

A foreboding silence ruled the office. Shaken hands, droplets of sweat. Without looking, Rokah heard it, smelled it while his heart danced, thankful for getting rid of Mr. Hendrickson's cursed permit.

***

Drops of cold water blessed Rokah's skin soaked his hair, and climbed down his face, washing hours of the long nightmare. Still, the pressure has yet to squander. The strong flavor of the high caliber stranger hovered behind him. Stimulating all the six senses he possessed, rendering them into a state of disarray.

They were outside, next to a finely contrived water canal. Two-person cab, a driver, and few guards stationed, neither near nor far the water canal. Rokah never felt so important. Those contradicting signals and ticks that reached his brain couldn't allow him to evaluate his standing, or form a decision.

Either way, in his position, Rokah didn't have a choice. He only can play along and he shall do.

The driver's whip hit the bull's back, and the wheels hit the ground surface. The cab took off.

"You should stay the night at my house." The heavily bearded man opened the talk, and Rokah's acting ability was placed under trial.

"I will take care of your belongings tomorrow, they need some paperwork before you can retrieve them."

"Thank you," Rokah looked outside, avoiding direct contact. "It's relief, hearing that my hard work in collecting those medical ingredients won't be wasted."

"Hhhh...Hhhh…"

The sound of deep laughs caused a jolt in Rokah's heart, for it was the sarcastic type. All kinds of bad omens swarmed inside his head. Surprised eyes turned over to inspect the man. It only made the other fall deeper in his amusement.

Unsure, a threat or hospitality, Rokah prepared for the worst.

Why his sense of danger was failing him…

Who is this man?

Gasping for air after the loud laugh, the man was finally able to articulate a complete sentence: "There is no need to hide it from me." Another jolt confused Rokah's heart. " Earlier, I didn't say her name, but, honestly, what happened?"

What is he talking about? Another test… Rokah kept silent.

"I am talking about Nayara…" The bearded man elaborated, "Don't you two have a good relationship? How did you offend here to play this nasty trick on you?"

Another deep laugh overcame the man, providing Rokah a shelter to escape without answering. Shifting his head to look outside, the second wave of confusion evaporated the lasting tiny bit of his rationality.


	71. Chapter Seventy-one : A discussion at the break of dawn

Beneath the fainted illumination of chandlery, Mr. Hendrickson traced the final lines of his note.   
  
Gently stroking his nose bridge, fatigue clouded his expression. The flood of obstinacy, the pride that he showed to intimidate Lord Shiva, depleted. Only remain its dried trails, the severe headache, and the blurred red vision.   
  
Unable to fight back, whimpers forcibly opened his lips. However, he didn't have the luxury of acting on his pain. The time is flying by, soon this place will be discovered by the city watchmen.  
  
Marduk surely won't tolerate Nicolai's accidental sneak peek. It is an offense against the protector of the city, a crime in the ruling class's eyes.   
  
Lost in Shiva's ulterior motive, Nicolai couldn't brush the persistent query from his head. Did Shiva trick him to look in that direction on purpose or it was a miss calculation?   
  
Anyway, he must change his location fast.   
  
Knocks on the room door initiated Nicolai's routine of preparing himself for the move. Only minutes later, his heels struck the staircase, walking down. Soon the reception of the guest house was in front of him. Passing the note to the attendant, he sought the workmen whom he hired and tasked to move his things.   
  
Most of the transfer passed smoothly, his baggage packed inside a well-protected carriage. One last piece and the job will be finished.   
  
Pleased, Nicolai breathed relief when the shadow of the final piece appeared out the guesthouse gate. Yet with every inch entering his visual field, the edge of his satisfied face darkened. Until it turned completely gloomy.   
  
How could they dare to handle a painting without properly covering and securing it? Those workmen had no experience maneuvering artworks.   
  
He advanced, shouting at them: "Stop… Stop…" Sharp tone denounced a strong vexation. His cane hit the ground several times, validating the irritation. "Put it down, go and bring something to cover it and ropes to secure it."   
  
It was the time of daybreak; the sun has yet to show its radiance. However, the flocks of leaked light preceded to announce its incoming. The large street was vacant, at most, some people scattered here and there. Caring about their own business.  
  
The emptiness made Nicolai's loud voice reverberate, disturbing the silent harmony of the dawn. even alerting the dead.   
  
The curious eyes loomed from every corner. Some seeking clarification. Some preying after a farce, or a quarrel…   
  
Recognizing the blunder, he lowered his head, dwelling, fleeing the meddlesome glances. His eyelids slid on the gloss black eyes; covering them with a dash of shame.

What's wrong with him lately, his actions strayed far beyond the path of graciousness and well mannerisms?

Unfortunately, the place. The timing didn't allow Nicolai to reflect on his recent bearing.

In the end, his attention was swept by a strange, overwhelming presence that approached without his awareness. Both of his hands gripped the head of the cane. Without lifting his head, half-opened eyelids, his black irides slid to the right corner. Scanning.   
  
Maybe he was overly vigilant…   
  
The path that stretched open to the end of the average eyesight, nothing alarming, roamed it.   
  
Heedless, he collected the weight of his body, then left toward the unprotected painting. The neglected frame inclined on the Blue garnished tall well. A stranger from the back advanced blocked Nicolai's vision…   
  
Alertness screamed down Nicolai's spine. One person? From where did he come? One person, it's not quite the threat… Maybe...

Mr. Hendrickson's reasoning inside his head as well as an attempt to cool down his alarm. His eyes sailed silently, meticulously scoping him. Either curiosity or an intended disturbance brought this person here.

The physical structure of a male, shyly drawn under a black long cloak. Nicolai rubbed his eyes, again and again, in disbelief. Was he hallucinating? Was he just that tired so now he is seeing things?

Unbalanced steps rushed near the painting. Shoulder to shoulder, he stood next to the stranger, separated by only the air, looking at the painting yet seeing nothing.

Stealing side glimpses, Nicolai, the way he used to do, failed to gauge on Rokah any kind of emotions.

This one beside him appeared different, more intimidating, more enigmatic, and somehow painfully mature. As if he turned into another person.   
  
What interesting rapid progress… Maybe because he succeeded in killing a person, the butler. It's strange how the mere taking of a person's life can change people.   
  
An effortless smile parted his lips, shattered the gloomy ice. Rays of his hope shone. He wondered; if Rokah is here, then Savannah must have reached Babel.   
  
Cheerful, he signaled to the workmen to stand aside. Postponing the painting covering, offering Rokah's intense observation, for a sufficient time.

In reality, he was waiting for a remark, even less, for Rokah's face to make an expression. Perhaps astonishment, displeasure, even curiosity will do. Anything will be informing, satisfying. Or so he thought.   
  
"Marvelous." Comporting as if they were strangers. The odd colored eyes narrowed while they scanned Nicolai, head to toes, as if the latter was, also, a part of the painting. A tone dipped in genuine appreciation: "What an insightful depiction."  
  
Startled, Rokah's comments cost Hendrickson several fake coughs. It sent his mind spiraling, embarrassing the possible unspoken meanings that drugged under those words.   
  
What dwelled behind this antagonism, the coldness, they aren't strangers after all. Unless…. Could it be Rokah figured it out, the little trick behind the Crocotta permit? Is that why he chose the stranger approach?  
  
Mr. Hendrickson, extended the back of his hand, attempted to cover the smirk that sat on his lips without permission. Delight conquered his exhaustion. Joy bloomed over the ash of his humiliation and despair. He couldn't help himself but participate in the game.   
  
"Yes, shame, it's not complete yet."  
  
The other hand gripping the cane handle deprived side glances, searching for a reaction. It seemed for Nicolai, the self-loathing personality who he used to know had matured or at least improved.   
  
He will be a quite good assistant when Savannah fulfills her promise.

"Really?" Rokah questioned as he strode closer, focused, examining each stroke: "Hum, it appears to me that the piece is finished," In the far above corner. His index pointed at the artist's signature: "Usually, the signature is the final touch an artist will add to his work."

Serious glares danced between the two like raging flames. Instinctively, Rokah was the first to pull back, for he sensed the dangerous heat that was about to explode.

"Probably the artist wished for it to have the impression of being incomplete." Pouring cold water, surprisingly the desirable effect was achieved.   
  
Nicolai pouted inwardly, debating: " If it was completed, then I do not think it looks like a portrait." Suggesting.  
  
A gleam traced the interwoven odd colors, making them brighter: "You think it is a portrait?" Rokah, wide-eyed, retreated a few steps under Nicolai's watch: "The artist said he wanted to draw a portrait? "  
  
Taking an inclusive look, he asked, staring directly at Mr. Hendrickson. "A portrait of who?"

Undeviating crossed inspection. Both of them face to face. For the second time, the air began boiling, not in anger, but confusion, puzzlement.

Lost, the hang of this game, Nicolai outlined a deep difference between the doctor whom he used to know and the one standing in front of him. In consequence, these questions remained unanswered.   
  
" In my opinion," Rokah, by shifting his attention back to the painting, cut the thread of intimidation, again. He was the one in complete control. Yet the tension is still there. Unmelted: "The object of this portrait, maybe dead."  
  
White lips, pale face, the blood withdrawn, responding to the sudden heart attack Nicolai experiencing at this moment.   
  
What is this?   
  
A threat…   
  
The split-second slipped while Nicolai strayed, pursuing a solid ground. Rokah torrent carried on:

"When a man's legacy is dead, he dies with it. Hence the impression of an unfinished touch. You said this is a portrait, then it must be the portrait of someone with great influence since the artist compared his fall to the epic of Colossus." Silently, Nicolai listened, attentively. A solemn color ate through his delight.

"This is just my own impression, I may be right, I may be wrong. But I am certain that the artist wished for his aim to accept different interpretations. The extent of the hidden symbolism is confusing, contradictory. Is the one concerned with the portrait dead or alive? Who knows? And that's why it is a great painting."

How much Savannah puppet knew or learned… How much she had told him and why?

Rokah's head tilted toward Hendrickson. Aware of what he just stirred:" Excuse me, those are mere speculations from my part." He approached. Absurd self-assurance bounced from his determined gaze: "You have eyes of someone who thinks that he completely knows me." An obsidian cylinder seal planted into the forced open Mr. Hendrickson's fingers: "This is where you will find me if you wish to learn why you are getting blind. "

The newly manifested sunlight separated the two standing figures. Shrouding his frame to fit entirely under the black mantle, Rokah mirrored a flaring shadow. Before he retreated, a final gaze wiped the refined man in Victorian costume. His voice held a less stern tone: "Consider it an apology for being rude."

Locals emerged from their slumber. The street woke up, influenced by the dazzling sunrise.   
  
Not letting the cylinder seal fall, nor securing it. Nicolai's fingers went paralyzed. Until his skin scorched by the garish light, he halted, motionless. His murky eyes pursuing the retired shadow.   
  
Akin to a mirage, the black mantle pulled away, insinuated between the tall buildings. Nicolai adjusted his hat, blocking the sun. Pondering, what just happened? Was he hallucinating? For he certainly was extremely tired.   
  
The feel of the cylinder seal within his finger assured him. What he just experienced was beyond the grip of an illusion.


	72. Chapter Seventy-two : A pleasure out of misery

The thunderous strides shook the stony paved ground, they finally stopped. A troupe of uniformed dressed men blocked the street.

Nicolai's faultless reckoning hit its mark. The city watchmen arrived even before the midday sun.

The authentic guesthouse was the object of meticulous investigations as well as its workers were the target of intense interrogations.

Curious eyes surveyed the whole process, whispering voices tweeted speculation about what was happening…

Taking advantage of the gathering, pale yellow eyes blended within the crowd. Watching, monitoring the entire procedure.

This was the said location Savannah conceded to meet Mr. Hendrickson. And here the clatter encircling the place. All Mr. Hendrickson's big talk about laying low, committing to caution. She should have tossed it with the wind. The man just can't live without drawing unwanted attention.

Dejected about getting into the guesthouse, she let the curtains drop.

Stimulated by the operator's whip, the ox pulled calmly and slowly. The one person carriage she rode abandoned the site.

In light of the last events, the tension between the north and the south is one step from the eruption.

The Crocottas, forever known as supporters of the northern ruling class. Also, the winner of the Colubrine black dragon territory. This new growing influence, this rapid land expansion, set off major strife between her mother and the current Marduk of Babel.

Sinking teeth hard, her lower lip paled. The stress's condemnation danced on her nerves. Each passing minute is considered a risk. Increasing the stake of getting discovered. Her mere unofficial presence within the city's walls will be regarded as a crime. Adding more fuel to the accumulated tension, the last thing Savannah desired.

The shaking of the carriage seemed eternal, Savannah next stop was at one of the entertainment houses. Like a plague, they mushroomed all over the famous hanging gardens.

The path to it felt unbelievably tedious, demanding, busied by crowds, sometimes blocked by patrolling guards. Once at the door, Savannah, wrapped in traditional male attire. A long short-sleeved dress enveloped in a blue shawl. Everyone thought of her as part of the other sex.

Into the building, the cylinder seal in her hand expressed the status of special guests.

An old aged woman held her hand in front of her, slightly bowed: "Well comeback, Sir." She offered to guide the way."It's been long since your last visit."

Savannah's undisturbed gaze, her extra agility, was ready for the slimmest surprise. She frequented this building. She knew this big place like the back of her hand. A small alert and she could find her way outside in a glimpse of an eye.

In the central courtyard, she passed several young women engaged in a music learning session. Other groups participated in singing, dancing, or performing lessons. Her stern nerves influenced by the sound relaxed, the stress melted. Wasting her time worrying was meaningless. In the end, no amount of anxiety can go against the planning of fate.

The loosen up complexions trailed after the old woman. Only stopping at her favorite room, on the third floor.

It was a good room, neither large nor small, had a large window veiled by a big tree.

The buzz of vibrant green leaves applied the last healing touch for Savannah altered's mood.

As usual, taking place to the left side, before a low rectangular table. Her gaze wandered up front, to the empty stage, where courtesans performed.

"Should we bring food?" The old woman halted at the door.

"Yes, please." Savannah's attention strayed, strolling the room corners, unconsciously taking notes. "The usual." Then to the window, her ears focused. Unrecognizable humming reached her grasp. She judged it unharmful. "Leave the door open and send for Naya."

The woman's bowed head carried an air of pleading. "Sorry Sir, but the hostess had left the house for an errand. Sadly, she had yet to return."

"Really..." Abruptness sliced Savannah's surveying routine. "For what?... To where ?"

"I don't know, Sir. She didn't say anything."

"Shame, I was looking to see her. I admire her singing,..." A faint smile painted her visage. Dreamily, Savannah's mind swept in the vivid tide of the lyre tunes: "Also the composed music ."

The blessing of positive thinking brightened Savannah's temper. However, the reality returned, uninvited. This time in the shape of a horned, winged, multidimensional troublesome problem.

The old woman stepped out. Gesturing hands in the air, warning: "Go away,... Go away,... what are you doing in this place… ."

Moans of cat reached her ears.

Chopped off the sound near the room entrance. An undefined shadow morphed indefinitely before it took a specific outline.

Inside the room, a vexed tone called: "You can come in." Savannah chugged water. Extinguishing the irritating disturbance…

What is he doing here?

Her relationship with Lord Shiva...

Toxic... No

Troubled... Maybe.

Complex with a lot of pushing and pulling... Exactly, yes.

Except this time, actually in plenty of times, she was the one at the end of the rope.

Refusing to yield, she kept the smile wide: "How did you find me?" Unimpressed.

"Disgraceful…" The old woman slid inside. Her attitude strayed out the box of a humble servant: "I advised you to stay away from this place."

It was a very familiar voice.

A deep sigh escaped Savannah's mouth, she poured herself another glass of water:

"Back at you," then shifted her attention to the door. "What are you doing here?"

The old woman followed Savannah's lead and looked towards the entrance: "I guessed that this is the first place that you will visit."

Some young women carrying food and drinks passed the door. Hypnotized, the strange robotic way they walked. A strong jasmine smell surged from their direction. Nostalgic yet different.

"This is just an entertainment house, nothing more and nothing less." Savannah declared, her eyes didn't lose the passengers.

A moment of stillness passed. Awkwardness irked the stagnated atmosphere. Under the intense gaze of the old woman, the stiffness rusted Savannah joints. She jumped to close the door. An attempt to rescue the conversation and brighten the mood.

"Sit down, let us concentrate on our most important interest." Choosing a seat on the opposite side, she noted a massive fog disfigurement above the old woman's head: "Tell me what happened to Hendrickson?"

The fog danced and condensed, the never-ending turbulent morphed to shape a familiar face. The head was adorned by two black horns.

Deep down, Savannah wished that he wasn't naked this time.

Thankfully, this time he hasn't materialized. Though, his inability to take a physical frame made her wonder.

Lord Shiva's misty manifestation collected additional details. Hair, colors, wings... Like a malicious spirit, he swam around the room. picking Savannah's back to hover above.

Not perturbed, she was more interested in the old woman in front of her. Dark greenish color manifested beneath her peeled up skin.

"Hendrickson?" Shiva's wings spread wide, above. "He can handle himself."

In front of Savannah's eyes, the older woman's disguise vaporized into thin air. Only left a strange mask covering the upper part of her face.

Another malicious spirit that lacked physical shape. It was so tiny, so weak, so pitiful to the point of insignificance. What bothers the mighty Lord Shiva about them? She never fathomed the source of his problem.

Out of familiarity, Savannah never paid much attention to those ghostly creatures. The astral nature of Crocotta continuously attracting them. However. what stimulated her hunger...

"I know it." dripping saliva greedily stained Savannah's lower lip. "It was you." Her eyes moved, pursuing the falling silver mask, from the air, up to the table surface. "You were behind the disturbance at that guest house." Her focus was forever directed at the silver mask.

Then it disappeared.

"Can you give it to me?" She groaned.

"No."

"Can you lend it to me?"

"No."

"Can you sell it to me?"

"No."

"Consider it a replacement or a compensation for the defective goggles."

"No, and I never have given, lent, or sold you a defective product." He finished with a harsh stern. "This is a piece of important evidence." Pleased, he added: "Finally, something to incriminate that woman."

"Naya?"

Proficient enough to perceive the hidden message. Savannah, unaffected by the firm refusal, reverted to the main topic: "Did you realize, at present, if something hurts Hendrickson it will reflect on me and my objective." Anyway, she should stop expecting favors from Lord Shiva. At least, until the problem of the opal-circlet gets solved.

Shiva's complexion softened, letting Savannah pour herself a glass of water. His thin, long fingernails tapped on the translucent surface. Harmonious circles formed on the tranquil water surface. Before the revelation, Savannah sensed the upcoming…

"You should think of some other payment to tempt Hendrickson with."

Her eyes narrowed upon the unclear declaration. Doubt clouded her face. Patiently, she watched his misty finger draw on the water's surface. An air of amusement was carried out by his composed movements. Without a wince, she waited for elaboration.

After the refreshing thrill diluted by the waltzing mild water, Lord Shiva gave her a charmed smile: "Your mother sent you a message with me."

"Hmm." Trembling stress chilled Savannah's leisure posture, cracked her positive mood. Fear run wild inside her veins. Did her mother find out she is going to meet Hendrickson in Babel?

"She wanted me to inform you…" playfully, the misty figure stretched to confront her. Face to face.

"What?" The dread cut the last thread of her patience.

"Your… You're…" Shiva looked bashful, unable to articulate his words. His thoughts of his late humiliation of being naked in front of a young woman made his voice impeded into his throat. However, his anticipation for Savannah's reaction, the pleasure of finding out the aftermath, won over.

" Your sister,... in a coma."

In this instant, Savannah appeared tranquil. Nothing changed at the surface. Rather it seemed calmer, quieter, serene.

She was always like this when a consecutive series of explosions sprinted through her spine.

Her mother's message, telling her to nullify Kanari animation, didn't arrive at a suitable moment.

She glanced at Lord Shiva: "Do I still have time to get you back the jewelry?" Her pale face relied on every ounce of shock.

"No," He placed the silver mask on his face. "On the contrary, my brother-in-law is here." the condensed fog took the shape of an old woman. He stood up, veiling his amusement, his pleasure.

What is Savannah going to do?

What she is going to choose?

A paradox of choice, life, and death stakes… A perfect meal for a high prestige Lord, like Shiva.


	73. Chapter seventy-three : A lopsided shift of harmony

Indeed, a hard choice to mold over. The losses, the gains, the risks, regrets, the near resolution, all interwoven in a complex, fragile web. At the center a trapped prey. If one thread got moved wrong, the hide and seek game will break apart.

Savannah left in that room, alone, chewing the outgrowth of her late choices. Her decisions. Her reasons to do so. Now, all seemed so selfish, so illogical… so naïve.

Her profile resembled a lifeless statue, rigid, expressionless. Out of overthinking, her mind slowly was melting.

Two alternatives, both will lead her to bitter regret.

The first, her little sister's death, a slow, silent death. If she allows the artificial personality named "Rokah" the time to evolve, to thrive. He will gradually eat her sister's sanity and consciousness.

An outcome Savannah could never be able to live with.

The second, her mother's definite clash with the regional council led by Marduk.

The clash, her uncle sacrificed loads to thin its flame. The clash that her mother's enemies are waiting for to display their claws.

The clash that will certainly happen if Savannah's involvement in the colubrine black dragon death floats above the already boiling water.

The smoke of culpability, the ash of remorse. The room was a furnace and Savannah's was getting cooked inside.

Shuffled steps, a heavy pace, in search of an escape. She left the entertainment house. The big city with the majestic monuments. Its narrow side streets, its wide populated roads. the soaring edifices, all of them couldn't contain Savannah felt regrets.

As she passed the gleeful faces, the loud laughs, the weight of her past decision touched the sky above. No one knew about her load, no one feels her tragedy.

The end of the street, the green trees, the passing carriages, the marvelous walls of the hanging gardens, all colorless, spiritless reflected in her pale gaze.

Ten years ago, or now, nothing had changed. Her existence to her family, to her clan, always has been a synonym to a curse, a calamity.

How many times she wished that she didn't exist.

Amid the sea of going and coming people, as if rejected by fate, she halted. Irreconcilable emotions painted her visage. A mix of indifference, despair, and madness.

Like a lost ghost, she laid her back to the immense black, blue glazed Marduk sculpture. The shadows stretched east, veiled her profile the same way her indifferent exterior concealed her interior turmoil.

On the ground, she gestured a circle, Lord Shiva's personal sigil clumsily traced on the soil.

"Here, Savannah, the black star, the void ambassador calls the mighty Lord Shiva in name of our oath of reciprocity."

" Um, how rare of you to use summoning…"

A clear reply echoed. It felt inside the maze of her mind. Clean and distant. Her head dragged up, the hollow gaze traveled the curves of the cold sculpture.

" I forget the last time you summoned me."

There, up the sculpture shoulder, a pair of black ears jerked in response. A small head rocked beneath the shaped folds of metals. A black cat looked down as it lowered its paws, sloping downwards. "You know my summoning oath won't provide you a fair exchange."

The black cat licked the inside of his paw. Overfilled, satiated.

However, curiosity was a dish hard to resist. And it goes well with his extra-large bowl of delight. "What do you want through this unfair exchange?"

A vague pale color. The darkness overcame the brightness in Savannah's eyes. The orange shade of the sunset thrown back on her visage, casting a halo of cruelty: "I have reached a decision."

That carefree countenance, that flowing overconfidence, all withdrew in favor of a dark sinister vehemence.

Only then, the gratified lick process halted. Shiva snapped, sobered, intensely fixated on Savannah. The passing silent seconds measured years: "Well," The cat canines appeared as if he was yawning, "That was quick." The tone of disappointment emerged sincerely, but also the steam of prying eagerness made his claws go in and out. The thrilling question. The awaited answer. What was Savannah's last choice?

***

The orange fired sky didn't roof, only Savannah's turbulence. South of the hanging gardens, not too close, yet not too far. Nayara's restless breathing vigorously kept inside her chest. The dark clothing hiding her body merged into the upcoming blackness of the night. Anxious, wandering in the narrow alleys, lost into a maze of shapely stones. As if afraid of getting undraped. Her smooth hand tightly fastened the fabric around her neck.

When she noticed an injured person stepping out one of the doors, her eyes wide open photographed the house. She darted toward it, desperate.

At the entrance, she got blocked by a man: "Sorry, Madam, but we have finished for the day, came back tomorrow."

"Is Clément still here?"

"No, the doctor has finished for the day, come back tomorrow."

A falling object sound reached from within the house. Nayara stole the opportunity and slid behind the man.

"Madam… Madam…" The cries of the angry man hunted her back.

Her stare rapidly searched the tiny room. A wooden desk, two beds, a cupboard, and scattered materials for medical use.

The moment the man's hand landed on her shoulder, his entire body failed to comply with his thoughts. The tiny budded lust inside him, the instant his eyes settled on Nayara, earlier, paved the road for her to enslave him.

"Where did he go?"

Controlled by her seductive spell, the man's answer was filled with unhealthy eagerness: "He will come back soon." His congested eyes protruded: "If you wish, you can wait for him here."

Cynical smirk topped her mouth: "No hurry," two steps, she approached the man: "Tell him, when he comes back, I am waiting for him, in the stone moon house, tonight. It's very important."

Her heels hovered gently on the floor. At the exit, he escorted her with pleading words: "Wait, my Lady, I will accompany you, walking alone, in the night in this neighborhood is dangerous."

As she looked down the narrow alley, the smug hue never left her face. She clearly enjoyed the greedy longing. It was a confirmation of her superior maneuver over the men. In light of the last bad events she had journeyed through, this was her own self-validation method. She had yet to lose her touch.

Lucky for Nayara, what would become of her fledgling feelings of security and self-affirmation when the man she sought was two floors above. Watching, noting every bit of the conversation, every morphing expression.

From the flat roof of the house, amid the folds of the night. In a corner where the moonlight missed its path, his head tilted, chasing the end of the alley. When the couple disappeared, he tore out the goggles from his face with a mild appreciation of their usefulness.

Hands locked behind his back, he mulled over Nayara's urgency, persistence to reach him. The purpose of her insistence, certainly, in quest of herself-benefit. However, the wonder submerged his thoughts. What brought her to this unpopular, remote part of the city?

Since she sought his person and no one else. There must be a bargain up her sleeves.

What could this unpleasant woman want from him?

Didn't she left in Savannah trails? When did she come back?

Regardless of how much he disfavored interacting with her, how much he distasted her methods, clashing paths together wasn't a matter of a personal choice. This woman was his only gateway to approach the Viceroy of Babel, Lord Irshusin II.

Luminous Palm trees vanquished a portion of the night, life burst into those parts of the city. The curfew hours got suppressed. All signs of the near celebration of the new Agricole year.

At the stone moon entertainment house, inside one of its most luxurious rooms, Nayara in breathtaking garments, gracefully organizing the various dishes on the low table. "As you may know, in the past few months, I left Babel for a quick trip to Innyana range in the north."

The size, the color, the content were all taken into account. Two other young girls in more modest attire helped her. "That's why you didn't hear from me."

A rapid side glance was thrown towards her guest, her aim to perceive if he was aware of her… quick trip or not.

Nothing could be deciphered on that stoic face.

"No one had guessed what I would face in such an erratic wilderness?"

One of the girls offered her a tea jug. The steam surged high as the cup got filled.

The thick yet shallow layer of tea steam disturbed by Naya voice waves: "How big can the world be?" Each word was meant to stimulate the curiosity of her guest. Delicate hands elegantly offered the cup. bashful eyes stole meaningful glimpses.

Looking deep into her guest eyes, tasting the water… With a close brush of fingers. She was disappointed, hopeless, getting a response from such kinds of individuals. Cold and heartless.

"I will share with you a secret." A final attempt.

A crystal clear dissatisfaction in her eyes, no reaction, no hint she could decipher on that emotionless face. Only the chance of revelation left to her: "In my trip to the Crocotta territory, I have met someone very interesting."

The other girl placed a set of fork and knife. Nayara proceeded to cut the meat into slices, then placed a piece in front of the guest.

"It happened that this someone," the graceful motion of her delicate fingers halted: "How should I phrase it? By chance... I stumbled on someone who happens to look exactly like you do."

The offered cup of tea was firmly held by a firm hand, a wave of instability generated on its surface.

To veil the confusion, her guest raised the cup to his lips.

"Who knows?" He said with melodic humor, "this world is high and big." Odd colored eyes peeked up on Nayara's hardly suppressed anticipation. "I may have a lost, forgotten twin brother that I had never heard of."


	74. Chapter Seventy-four : A narrow space for bartering

The warm southern breeze, the refreshing smell of dawn, the gentle hues of the city called out. The spring is here.

Ten days before the glorious celebration of the new Agricole year. Again, the morning's first light greeted the sky. In the endlessly repeated circles of life. Two different persons walked two different roads. Designed, under the benediction of fate to not meet today, but very soon.

Savannah sneaked her way to the guest house previously occupied by Mr. Hendrickson. The note he had left her was the center of a scrupulous reading.

Claiming he had found five locations that could be what she was searching for. However, he didn't disclose the exact whereabouts of those said locations.

What he wanted, from her, was extremely evident, something akin to a reassurance, a tangible guarantee for his valuable service.

The thin edge of the paper swiped above her lips as a wicked thought delved into her mind. eyes upwards, an excessive amount of ideas twisted together.

Mr. Hendrickson's urgent needs turned him less grisly as he used to be. Visiting him, dealing with him will be easier than having a heart to heart conversation with her mother.

Not far from her location, Clément patrolled the shadow to his workplace. In the opposite direction. Carrying a heavy mind and a list of resolutions. On its top: He should fire his helper. For he turned into a toy at the hands of the moon stone hostess.

The second one, the most important and probably the most difficult. In the end, how could he examine the honesty behind Nayara's words without casualties?

The purpose of her unpredictable invitation, the little chat, didn't just end with Nayara's declaration about what she encountered on her trip, neither it was her exact objective to divulge.

Actually, their talk lasted the night. The play of his colorful indifference and the dance of interrogation led by her continued without exhaustion, till the moment when all the cards were laid open.

He purposely provoked her when he asked: "Then, my lady, where could I meet this said person who happens to look exactly like I do?" he could feel the penetrating stars, the darting rage arrows. The repressed aversion sealed between her lips. He somehow enjoyed it up to the moment she opened them.

"He is now held prisoner at the city gates, his life and death are all in my hand."

"Ahh, what terrible luck?" He said, one eyelid half opened, watching her. Patrolling the possibilities, her words held.

The wide grin shaping her mouth troubled his judgment: "It's not a matter of him being related to you, it's a matter of him being related to the Crocotta."

Ah, that's it, Clément began to get the guise of what she had planned. Carefully, keeping the cheerful attitude:

"You must have an irrefutable proof to assert this forbidden relationship."

Let's sum it up: An alleged individual who happened to look like him has a presumed connection with the Crocotta. Given the escalating tension between Ashur and Babel, the doubtful, distrustful nature of the Viceroy of the city. The latter will certainly assimilate it to a form of treachery.

A loose string Nayara could play with. She will be able to entangle Clément breath and toss it wherever it benefits her. Only by faking the connection between him and this unknown individual. If he showed a slight resistance, she could render all of his past diligent work to approach Babel Viceroy into a withered flower.

"Of course, I do." A smirk was explicitly expressed as she placed the dessert in front of him.

Maybe, unlike most other men who fell into her seductive web, he was immune to her charm. Still, no one was immune to the scheme of blackmailing if it's used right.

The traditional dessert melted into his mouth. The sugary taste diluted the impact of his dejection, preventing his sunk in emotions to reach his face. He mellowed... Such a wiliness stood above her level.

Clèment had appraised her, weeded the depth of her persona, stripped bare her character. Her fears, her ambitions completely known to him. She relies so much on her seduction to trap men, thus she is inept when facing those who are immune to her charm. Who could be the mastermind instructing her behind the sideline?

The sugary taste faded, a restrained chuckle took its place: "You win." He lowered his eyelids towards her: "What do you want?" He could see the satisfaction spreading, lightening her complexion. The joy of success drizzled her eyes.

"Do you remember that Crocotta you had sent to my entertainment house?"

"Of course." The picture of Savannah popped up into Clément's head. How much he wished they wouldn't meet again.

"For me, how rare to get acquainted with such a powerful entity, thus I decided to propose an oath between us."

Clément, listening attentively, perceiving Nayara's deep yearning. He can't blame her. The majority tend to flicker around power and authority. Isn't he the same in such regard?

"Hmm, sill, I can't find my place in this equation?"

A tiny sip of tea pleased her thirst, "well..." She took a brief breath: "It happened that I got bitten up to this goal by a high prestige problem."

"Very natural,” Clément interrupted: “do you expect such a powerful entity as you said won't get approached by other powerful entities?” an intended provocation: “Power attracts power." aspired to discourage her by referring to her low place in the pyramid of superiority.

The teacup hit the table, wrinkles of displeasure disfigured the skin around her eyes. It was a subtle, faint reaction, nevertheless perceived under Clément's watchful gaze: “In exchange,” as if she didn’t prop the intended meaning, she resumed: “I want you to distract him."

Aha...

With this demand, this woman trace-paced the threshold of sanity sooner than he calculated.

“Naya? Where are you living?” a mixed tone, a second attack: “Ashur people and their allies are banned from entering Babel.”

The flash of the well-veiled discontent blared into a fit of apparent anger. She shrieked: “Do not worry yourself about this small detail. Just do your part.”

Albeit, this time, cynical words weren’t enough to suppress her, A Bunch of input could get deduced based on this reply.

Clèment presumption reached a satisfying destination:

The Crocottas are in Babel.

More accurately, Savannah Crocotta is in Babel.

This heated dance of syntax cooled into an erupted discovery. Clément left the stone moon entertainment house bundled with questions. Wondering…

How much truth sailed in Nayara's words?

To what an extent expanded her sincerity? Is she planning to betray Babel Viceroy?

Or was this a ploy from Irshusin to test his loyalty? Again...

If so, then what an unimaginative story about someone who looked like him?

At the gateway of the slums, thoughtful yet soundless strides abridged distance. Stream of suppositions, a spiral of speculations spattered over Clèment's mind.

This ambiguous zone that separated two different worlds, two distinct realities, is the same, no matter where he goes.

Between the narrow alleys, amidst the putrid fog, the piles of the trash in corners. For those who are forsaken or those who get spared, fate never stopped flowing. This time, it wished for Clément, for his questions to be answered, fully, sooner than he thought.

The corpse before his workplace had no trace of blood, no sign of breath, no hint of life.

In his line of work, such a view, not unusual, neither was rare. But what are these dreadful feelings seeping inside, gnawing a hole into his chest?

The early morning, bit by bit, unmasked the slumber of a long night. The corpse was forced into Clèment's place.

A little short after, successive, strong knocks hammered the door. As if wanting to uproot the very foundation of the building. Sharp, odd-colored eyes narrowed, alert.

The corpse was tucked into an invisible spot.

While he observed the door frame, solemn temperament gushed his visage, blending caution, readiness, surprise, nostalgia all in together.

This barbarian way of knocking, he knew it.

***

Standing outside, the black cat yawned, stretched, then snuggled between Savannah's feet.

"You sure won't come with me?"

Hendrickson's paper note was ripped apart, its weightless fragments waltzed with the breeze.

Seconds later, the gate to a modest guest house opened.

Here, in front of this place, was the pointed location in the note. The new accommodation of Mr. Hendrickson.

Savannah already scanned the region, its buildings, its roads, its residents. Less extravagant, less popular, rather sinister, and impoverished. A distant, desolated area, out of the prying eyes and gossipy mouths, at least for the time being.

Another surveying look brushed over the individual who welcomed her. Villainy, filth yelled out of his bearing. This secluded place must be a refuge for outlaws.

Again, she glanced at the black cat, smelling the nervousness out of him while he stood near the gate, reluctant to go in. The statement: I don't want to meet Hendrickson, go meet him by yourself. Written clear in his eyes.

Puzzled, she wondered: What did Lord Shiva do to Hendrickson to be afraid of meeting him and the latter to relocate to this kind of place.

Never mind…

She forcefully secured the struggling, scared cat and made her way inside. Following the guidance of the so looking felon.

The smell of liquor, the view of trash accompanied her till she arrived at Mr. Hendrickson's room. Hopefully, the state of cleanness was better around this part.

The struggling cat became more violent as if fighting for his last breath.

The old wooden door slid open from the inside. Dark, oppressed sensation stemmed through. The familiar fainted Jasmine scent, the uneasiness.

One step in, the black cat finally broke free of her embrace.


	75. Chapter Seventy-five : A hellish abyss of skeptism

Savannah's shadow dissolved within the room. One leg inside, one leg outside, she stood at the entrance. One eye marveling at the cat's defensive behavior, one eye monitoring Mr. Hendrickson's position, movements, number of breaths.

He appeared irritated by the feeble light melting into the security of his hideout.

She sniffed the surrounding air, the scent of Jasmine, as dim as the grass in a hot desert. Instilled some explanations.

"Tell him that he can come in."

He surprised her. This sentence confirmed her doubts.

She shifted her focus to the black cat. It crouched in the sunniest spot of the open corridor, refusing to step an inch.

As fast as the liberating breath, the cat found itself in the grasp of Savannah's hands, then one foot inside the room.

A familiar tone echoed within her head: "Don't do this, I am defenseless, he will prey into my heart, he will find all my secrets and use it in inventive ways to torture me."

she whispered into his ear while closing the door. " Who dare bully you when I am here?"

However, in truth, her confidence about Mr. Hendrickson, disfavored, physical, psychological states was the backbone of her words.

A piece of moist fabric was placed on his forehead and eyes. Two fingers pressed lightly above the base of his nose before they moved, lazily, dragging the fabric away from his head.

The pair of eyes that looked to Savannah and the nervous cat behind her feet had a double iris. A hint of weariness dominated his gaze.

Nicolai must have taken the matter of their little chat in the farm to his heart. So close to his heart, desperately close to his heart.

She groaned inwardly, the puff of air parted her lips, unbeknownst, for a moment that she was also an object of someone else meticulous scrutiny.

This instant of omission built enough doubts into Hendrickson's awareness.

He examined her, thoughtfully. Her demeanor, her ability to blend in with locals. Even the overly dark skin and light-colored eyes were skilfully toned down.

He didn't want to rush, forming a quick illation. He waited for her to hold the initiation honor.

On account of the irony of fate, she just had the exact thought.

The black cat never left her side. When she picked through the window curtains, or when she sat on the old smelling sofa. Making herself comfortable at home. On occasion, the cat snatched glimpses at Nicolai while he wasn't paying ample attention. However, the elusive mental link between Savannah and the cat never stopped pulsing orders: "Don't be the first to speak."

"Yeah, Yeah, you can stop motioning that."

"Don't avert your eyes. He is already suspecting something."

"How come I keep staring at him purposeless?"

Endless chaos of bickering.

The one outside the stage finally changed the target of his focus.

The black cat pretended to lick his paw, careless about the affairs of the world.

"What's now?" Savannah asked, urging Lord Shiva for a decision.

Under Nicolai's piercing gaze, the black cat ended the licking ritual, crouched next to Savannah's leg, and lowered his head.

Before the time limit, one last interaction passed through the temporary mental link:" Go on."

"You said you have found five locations that much our description?"

The negotiation had started. Nicolai welcomed the dry cold tone in Savannah's words with a relieved heart.

A wave of comfort sparsed the vibration of his earlier doubts. A moment ago, he was almost certain that she showed up to cease their initial arrangement.

The cat moaned, the two of them watched it moving toward the entrance, scratching the door.

Savannah didn't pay it a considerable amount of attention. In contrast, a foreboding sensation rose beneath Nicolai's calm, tired face. Asking the question: Why did Lord Shiva vacate the sitting?

A hollow gap erected in Nicolai's chain of reasoning. In no way Shiva wasn't interested in the outcome of this search?

In no way he will leave his dear Savannah alone?

Answers for those questions, He couldn't figure it out, at least for now.

Worn from thinking, worn of every bad thing he had encountered lately. Defeated. Desperate to get what he wanted. He placed his hand on the knob opening the door, letting the poor cat escape the suffocating pressure.

A pair of black eyes acknowledged the stern look of Savannah's gaze, embarrassed by it. And finally accepted it. Inky hair slid atop a white skin when he bent over, searching a drawer.

Savannah didn't flit, settled as a watcher. Composed outside, troubled inside. She preferred silence.

She stared at the folded paper offered to her. Then examined the extended arm holding it, inch by inch, till she beheld the profile of his face. Waiting for his consent to take it.

A half nod and the paper was between her fingers. Skilfully playing the unfolding game. With a focused look, she devoured it, impatiently.

It was a simple map of the city. Highlighting the major locations. Pinpointing five different places in red.

When she lifted her head, Nicolai was already resting his back on the chair, one hand covering his eyes. His voice fainted gradually: " I pinpointed the potential locations on this map. Unfortunately, I could only narrow the search to five possibilities."

Savannah's perturbed heart drowned in sympathy, oozed with guilt. Shying her eyes away from the black ghost in front of her. Afraid to talk. Something told her she will screw big if she says anything.

She walked up to the old desk, placing a silver silent whistle and a metallic card. Aware of being watched from the side, she finally thought that it is less suspicious if she says something.

"I didn't believe you are making things simpler than you usually do." Peeping at his face, a cynical tone followed after: "Your first time?"

Witnessing the slightly up bent lips of his, her weighted guilt turned lighter.

"You can encourage me more."

"How?" She asked unimpressed. Humm, was this the price of simplicity? Was he hinting at the coffin?

"Tell me what you know about my airship." Attentively listening, she pressed her lips appraising the boundaries of her ought frankness, wondering, where her gaze hoverer at the ceiling. Would it be beneficial if she tells him about the strangers with the Jasmine scent at the moon stone entertainment house?

" The innate restrictions of the land of rivers." She pierced Nicolai with a sharp look, Indirectly, gauging his true motive: "I don't think your airship can fly over anything other than obediently using the water flow."

"Did it get permission to step inside?"

"No, all foreign airships are subjected to diligent surveillance. Not just the Kilioz."

"Any other details?"

"It's not hard to guess."

The man's hand fell aside, his sightline set free. Moving his focus between the desk and Savannah unchanged, cool expressions.

The small hint she provided, he understood its significance. The escalating tension between the north and the south reached its summit. Staying any longer here will be dangerous. Getting out of the city also won't be easy. Finding Francis's whereabouts…Has that jerk even entered the city?

The ichor ration he offered him, almost ran out.

"Do you know which port the Kilioz is stationed?"

"The North…" Savannah paused for several seconds before she decided to give more intel. "The Kilioz is stationed in the main military port, there are rumors that say that the admiral had met the Viceroy several times."

She tagged the folded map within her clothing and proceeded toward the door. Before getting outside, she turned, seeking Nicolai's hazy silhouette: "One more thing you should know, the one who sent guards after you wasn't Marduk." She paused, articulating her statement, as well as annotating its price. "I noticed that Shiva wasn't able to keep a physical form. Don't bully him more than that."

The door closed with a low clack. Shivers of the spring air wiggled after her departure.

Akin to an inanimate sculpture, with crossed legs, tight shut eyes, he dangled his head into his right palm. A forbidden radiance seeped through as he slumbered in imposing silence, screening the newly received information. Classifying it.

The true parts, the false parts, the parts that meant to confuse him. And how everything was related to each other?

There is a certain insanity in skepticism. Suspicious people always lose themselves in a hellish kind of abyss. What was accurate? What was shrouded in falsehood?

But how can Nicolai be blamed for his caution? Who can be trusted in this world of lies and trickery? Didn't he sink to the bottom for a transient careless moment?

This draining logical process halted at an invisible conviction. What are those lackluster feelings rampaging his thoughts? What was Savannah not telling him right?

Nicolai, as an authentic reader of aura, didn't detect any abnormality.

Every word she had uttered missed the hesitation of deception, lacked the fetid odor of hypocrisy. Even when she interceded for Shiva's security, she was genuine, sincere, concerned.

She only spoke of truths… Then, where is the problem?

Perturbed by the orange light of sunset sneaking past the ragged curtains. The distinguished statue, at last, showed a sign of vitality. The well-built cane bore the crushing weight of a desperate man. Assisting him along with the short distance to the window. Before his hand reached the target, the sharp sound of a falling object won his attention.

A marble cylinder seal chose the brightest spot in the room to manifest its existence.

Absorbed in its engraved symbols. The revived impression Nicolai had made when he met Rokah in Babel swarmed in. That cold confident demeanor… The calm reflection…

He should go and meet him, at least, for one last time, before he will use the silent whistle to surpass this puppet intriguing personality.

The orange light burned the fingers that extended to retrieve the cylinder seal. Forced them to retreat. It was a mere moment and the whole room plunged into infinite darkness.


	76. Chapter Seventy-six : A forthcoming raging storm

An infinite loophole of wonder. Confusion, anarchy collapsed together above his head.

Under the rubble of logic and the rationalization of lies, Clément became unable to think. Stupefied by the unpredictable reality.

His blank mind jumped across ideas, speculations. Nothing was concrete. Nothing in the line of his recollection could explain what he is seeing? What has he encountered this morning?

On his knees, he lifted his head toward the ceiling. Looking without seeing, watching but not observing. Immersed in praying like-state for a revelation, for divine insight. Since thinking now, in this situation, wasn't an option.

God knew how many times he removed the sheets smothering this corpse? How many times did he stare at the vacant face? Showering it with piercing attention. Gauging out the smallest details for rigorous analysis.

How many times he touched the cold body to get convinced of its extinguished existence.

At each occasion, he bit his lips, calling for a wake-up, denying his own senses.

"I have finished setting up the patient."

Finally, a rope for rescue. Clément stood, pulled up the weight of his struggle, expelling it behind a mirror of efficiency. His firm footsteps conjured an air of absolute control, his voice executed the perfect reflection of professionalism:

"Brief me about the case." He ordered as he examined the comatose patient.

The timid nature of the new assistant concocted her in a saucepan of stuttering and clumsiness.

Clément's sunshine smile only aggravated her state, it turned her mute in one go.

"Where is the man who brought him?" The question changed.

The new assistant presented him this written note then clarified: "He said that he had an urgent matter to attend. He tasked me to relay you this note, and left."

Receiving the note between his fingers, Clément while unfolding it, sobered up at the trivial matter that his little simple, shy, new assistant wasn't actually simple or shy to the extent he thought she was.

One hand ran through his hair. A finger paused dividing his lips and chin in the middle, contemplating: "My lady, can I send you on an urgent errand?" His eyes flickered, faking vagueness. As well as studying her subtle reactions.

"Yes sir, of course." Her devoted tone contrasted the displayed emotions of doubt.

"I have put a list of medicinal ingredients that I lack and need for this case. Can I entrust to you? The mission to fetch them."

In the solitude of his workshop, surrounded by the smell of illness and death, Clément proceeded, performing a complete clinical examination of the comatose man. Noting the amplitude of his breathing, checking the rhythm of his heartbeats, testing the reflexes…

While he was engrossed in this process, gushing all the focus into his work, an imminent existence slipped through the entrance.

However, no contact was established until the final act of the examination.

Clèment arranged the box of his instruments then faced the intruder: "It never ceases to amaze me, the eloquence of your blank messages."

"Well, it never ceases to amaze me, your choice of assistants, I wonder why they all tend to have an ulterior motive."

A sturdy man idled his shoulder on the door frame. His massive body blocked all the incoming light.

Clément tilted his head, eyes closed escorting a curved amused smile. A front, endearing and menacing at the same time: "Spies are such a valuable material, sometimes they are just difficult to handle. The best conduct is to replace them with other spies that serve more powerful individuals."

Isidore, unimpressed, this twisted bullshit ranged beyond his forbearing ability. He could never understand Clément rolling thoughts or wins against his bluffing logic.

His guaranteed fleeing method was always to leap through subjects. "Did you recognize him?"

The doctor swept his gaze over the comatose person. Handful flocks of light embarrassed the white, sickly skin, accentuated the contrast in the black hair. Another full turn and Clément focus landed on the big man. He said, all honest and sincere: "No." Before he could take another breath, he added: "Who is he, anyway?"

Isidore jumped over the question: "Will he survive?" Drifting a few steps in.

"Yes, with proper care, an adequate diet, and enough rest." Unbothered, rather inquisitive, Clément resigned on pursuing a quick answer. However, he took his time absorbing the background state of the Kerit.

The rustiness, the weariness added the prestige of his palatial appearance. Tattered clothes, dirty, wounded face and hands narrating a story of a long journey packed with suffering and obstacles.

Anarchy oozed out his droopy eyes, tainted his mien of mechanical anxiety.

Clément fathomed the futility in pursuing whatever clarification he strove for. Nevertheless, initiating any form of interrogation. He swallowed his breath, suppressing the harsh desire to be enlightened, informed about the affairs outside Babel walls.

Unexpectedly, Isidore looked at him, one meaningful look before he warned: "The Crocotta is here." His words, heavy, bearing the acute vibration of urgency and admonition, transmitted by the dry timbre of someone that had far more to say and far less time to convey.

This veiled significance vaporized into the surrounding air like a stimulating toxin clicked the resolve switch: "I know." Clément emphasized. This answer scored him a display of puzzlement.

"I am waiting for someone to pay me a visit." He added, vaguely elaborating as he swang a metallic key into the big man's hands.

A sidelong glance wiped the comatose person, next, it glossed over the Kerit massive body: " Take him, I have sanctum in the southeast part of the city, things are less unsettled there, have some rest, I will join you later."

Receiving the cold item, Isidore hesitated, hence beaten in making any protest:

"Hurry-up, not just my assistants are spies. I am constantly under surveillance."

Inhaling a handful of inquiries mixed in a pool of reprimands, unable to voice them. The Kerit kept them bottled inside his chest for later accounting.

In a matter of seconds, like unwanted luggage, the unconscious Amarok dangled upside-down from Isidore's shoulder.

Sidelong, odd-colored eyes capped by the mist of heavy calculations, even so, still attached, observing reality, surveying the progressing process.

In Clément's point of view, for an indiscernible reason, noted Isidore's caution in handling this stranger's life, despite the slight ruthlessness in his movements.

White eyelashes lowered, contemplating, eventually deciding. He called: "Wait…"

Startled, the big man made a full turn: "There is something else you need to take with you."

The graveness that reflected on Clèment's face leaked a cryptic communication. His chin pointed to the inner room. Quickly, disappearing within its scope.

Darts of uncertainty launched from Isidore's gaze, landed right on Clèment back while he crouched down revealing layers of covers. Pointing at the underneath corpse, he explained, eyes fully fixated on the dead body visage: "I found him this morning in the road to my workplace."

In complete self-control his focus marginalized, slowly, steadily approached the Kerit, standing next to him.

Parallel to a reflection on a tranquil water-surface, the cadaver that imitated Clément's features, matched the colors of his hair and eyes, mirrored his features resembled a soulless doll. Devoid of life.

"Oh, God…" Aghast, Isidore's words trampled between his teeth, lips, his throat constricted: "You should leave too."

Clément retreated, transcending Isidore's genuine concern.

The bone-eater of his arm flared, expanded like dancing filaments, streamed to reach his shoulder, neck, then his jew, drawing a complex abstract formation of dark veins. He responded: "I will." Tufts of his hair burned black: "But after meeting the patient I am waiting for."

For the rest part of the daytime, the small clinic resumed its activities, ordinary….

The conflicted breeze of the morning had transpired amongst the buzzing of exertion. Patient after patient, the check-up consumed the concept of time.

Invasive, the dusk greeted goodbye the day. This time, it walked a little later as the cycle of the season moved deeper into the spring.

On his desk, Clément, turning pages, writing notes, unified in rhythmic peacefulness of solitude.

He deliberately, decelerated his working pace since he was waiting, precisely, for the arrival of two persons.

The First, Clément is already hearing his panting breath, his quick footsteps, and then his knocks on the outside door.

A wide beam decorated his contour…

"I am sorry Sir…," His new assistant, out of breath. "I couldn't find all ingredients…" She bent down for relief: "I walked upside-down, all the market stores for them, however…" No wonder, She was new, she was eager for his approval, and trust: "There are some that I couldn't find."

Cleaning up his desk, moving his eyes sideways so he could see her on the reflective surface nearby: "Thank you so much, my lady." He retracted his gaze thus he won't be discovered, "Since the nightfall, you need to go home soon."

A second stolen pick at the reflective surface.

"I am really sorry Doctor…"

Her face actually made another kind of expression. A few minutes of silence gone, and she asked about her true objective: "Doctor?"

"Hum…"

"Where's the patient of this morning?"

The desk became spotless, forcing his smile inward, Clément replied: "Dead."

The cold wind of night leaked through the slammed door.

Pleased head cupped and supported by one hand, Clément couldn't help but chuckle.

This young woman isn't spy material. A sigh left his relaxed lips.

Her emotions were all over the place. Furthermore, she was awfully honest.

In any case, his grand honor, the great Viceroy of Babel, certainly, will be informed of this little incident before the next morning.

How unfortunate…

The second visitor reached nearer. Walked quieter than the gentle drizzle, advanced calmer than a spring breeze. His steps held solid and unyielding, denoting an assured superiority.

Clément sneaked behind the door, hand on the knob. His amused smile faded under a new thickened cluster of heed. This soaring level of intimidation, even when he is dealing with dangerous individuals, since his crazy endeavor with the Black Star. He seldom experienced it.


	77. Chapter Seventy-seven : A late visitor of night

At the right moment, the door unbarred. Face to face, Clément watched the countenance of the person he waited for, faking a surprised look.

The man leaned on his cane, eyes down to the ground then up, the air communicated his inquiry: "I didn't know that you close the night?"

"Yes, except for emergencies."

Clément wondered about the grave state of the man. He looked weaker, paler than the first time he saw him.

"I don't think my case is urgent."

Opening the door wide, a welcoming gesture spurred an explicit invitation, a wide brilliant smile tinted Clèment face with apparent friendliness: "Only a doctor can decide that."

Flickering glances at the man's back, Clément observed, closely. The way the visitor walked, the way he held himself, his western clothes, his shoes, even his accessories.

A foggy assumption perturbed the doctor's mind, the feelings of familiarity fragranced the memories of not so long past.

Not deep in, the man stayed standing, his tired eyes, difficultly, marked the bordering objects. Mr. Hendrickson's visual acuity declined tons. A comfy chair was brought to him, he was asked to sit down.

In the middle of the room, the doctor stood behind the chair back, fingers gripping its edge, mellowing the syllables before he spoke: "look over, and tell me what can you see?"

Silence spread like a rippling effect while Clèment proceeded to the second level of observation.

He noted the cleanness degree of the man's clothing, of the exposed parts of his body; hair, neck, hands, nails… Even heaved parts of the perfume he used. A slight Jasmine aroma was mixed in.

When he felt enough satisfaction, he pushed forward, searching for a better angle for a farther examination. "Can you describe to me what can you see?"

A few steps, Clément finally decided on a position, sufficient to survey this mysterious night visitor: "I can see you but I can't make out the details."

Closer, he approached one step, "And, now?"

"No difference."

The doctor's head turned left then right, assessing: "Did you need more light?"

"I can't stand more light."

Is this why he picked the night-time? This question crossed Clément's thought. A sigh left his chest before he asked: "How did you find your way here?"

"I am not blind yet…" He could see a twisted grin," Besides, I have met some help."

Sternly, Clément eyed the sitting man in front of him. Devoured his composed image. Digging through the layers of protection that surround him. He concluded; those are thick walls to penetrate with this superficial interrogation.

He must go deeper if he wanted to disclose the real identity of the artist who painted that piece, the artist who faked his drawing style:" What else can you see aside from my presence?"

In a bit of a second, Nicolai's gaze surfed the entire room. Face to the side, the corner of his lips contorted yet but for a second time: "Nothing I can make out in particular."

The metaphorical sense of the statement made Clément burst into a hysterical, suppressed chuckle. He said, a melodic voice loosened the surrounding air: "Of course, you have the right to ask questions too."

Pending, the two exchanged pensive regard. Long and meaningful.

Those black inked eyes were hard to deceive or to decipher. This man can or cannot see? Clèment couldn't be certain anymore.

"At the gate of the guesthouse, was our meeting a coincidence?"

Eyes wide, the doctor turned, aimed for his desk. As he set on it, his heels caused a faint rattle. Closing his eyes, he felt that if he tells a lie this person will certainly see through it. And if he tells the truth, he won't get instantly believed.

He just perceived his visitor as this kind of people… hard to handle or be influenced.

Why bother asking then? The doctor wondered. Unless it was a test… Or maybe a discovery game of hidden agendas.

Akin to a ravenous animal, this mere possibility triggered excessive drooling. Clèment swallowed, his stomach tensed. What a hearty meal for tonight.

All right, then let's go with the flow:

"It was a pure coincidence," He declared, unrestrained, a hint of mirth outdo his formal tone: "I was passing through when I heard someone rebuking laborers." His head swang up, reminiscing, retrieving the scene from the margin of his memories: "So early in the morning, It raised my attention, hence I approached… out of curiosity… " Paused, he judged it too early to speak out his true motive.

In parallel, the strings of dread fluttered a grave timbre. Its resonance stemmed from Clément's bones, echoed high in his head, signaling a prominent danger. A trap he had just tumbled in.

What was the purpose of this seemingly innocent question?

Clément's logic, eventually, subdued his desire for amusement. Moved fast and locked the man's inquiry with the corpse he had found this morning.

If he himself had never met this man before that time, why then asking about the authenticity of the encounter?

Unless... This man, the corpse of this morning… Were… Familiar with each other…

"Hah. Then, I must have made quite the show of myself." A notably formal, well thought out laugh, cut abruptly, the chains of the doctor's introspection as if it was intentional.

Pursed lips, tensed chest, Clément re-studied the man. Hunting for proofs. Eyes narrowed in focus. Did or didn't this dignified Sire believe in his answer? He couldn't tell.

"Excuse me, Doctor," Clément attention hooked, here came another attack: "Do quarrels always hold your attention?" What a smug tone. What a sly man, shifting the scales of influence into his favor in the blink of an eye.

However, this sort of low-level provocation, What he wanted to get through it? There were several possibilities, Clément's lack of basic knowledge about the man's core personality made him unable to weigh one possibility over another.

"Actually," he said, words articulating slowly: "What ticked my curiosity wasn't the quarrel itself…, it was the way you dress…, your clothing style."

"Oh!"

"Those who preserve their municipal semblance in a foreign land that is in pre-war state…," he shook his heels, slightly, against the desk, then jumped swiftly to the floor: "I thought you were a complete stranger, oblivious to this city affairs, though, you spoke Babel dialect better than me."

Like a predator relocating within an arc centered by the chair, Clément halted parallel to Mr. Hendrickson's right side. The latter abstained to diverge from his gaze. Kept looking forward, radiating haughtiness.

"I can tell that you aren't an idiot," He paused, there were traces of reasoning lamented in his face; particularly, about what he was supposed to say and what he was not: "Either you don't care about your safety or you want to make it easy for someone to spot you." Odd colored eyes graced Nicolai with side glances: "Still, I think you are rather some sort of lunatic, I mean who is in his right mind visiting this kind of neighborhood, in the night, dressed extravagantly, and worst, in foreign clothing?"

In the light of those remarks, the mood, in a way, bounced to an air of friendliness.

Nicolai laughed, heartily. A hand lifted to hide his enjoyment. His deep black eyes bordered the limit of his right visual field:" I would be more convinced if you spoke about the painting, that time, I thought that painting was what breath took your awareness."

"It was." Clément reached behind him, gripping the chair. He didn't wish for his expressions to be detected, even for a fleeting glance. "It was." He confirmed, "It was the thing that made me stay." Eyelashes dropped ashing to uphold the visitor's reaction, for he was certain if he confronted this man directly, he will lose the upper hand.

Sitting above the abyss, from the back, Nicolai sensed the gravitational pull, quivering to consume him. He changed the subject: "You said that you can cure my eyes."

Maddening his ability to play around. To mold the atmosphere into his fancy. Just with one sentence, the walls of the built-up tension crumble in one go. Burying up the monster's mouth.

Clément retreated a few steps, kept his fingers attached to the chair back by a stroke of patience: "I said, if you want to know what caused your blindness, I may be able to help, guidance is what offered at most."

"My case, above your level?" Nicolai mastered a tone of challenge, for he fathomed its efficacy over the earlier pushes and pulls.

An instant of consideration showered the room, Clément sipped the appealing proposal. Chewed every bit before he deemed it: "Serious conditions need ample commitment, I can't engage my services without prior assurances."

"Honorary? You think I can't pay."

How he refuses him? While he is still polite. If Mr. Hendrickson reached for Clément's assistance prior to the events of this day, the doctor will, without doubt, grant his request.

" A pledge," Clément strode to his desk, not wasting a turn: "You need to swear or sign on the sanative pledge." For the second time, he used the flatness of the desk as a replacement for a seat: "My self-customized Sanative pledge."

***

A grim chorus for death, the caw of crows recorded endlessly, merciless fights. Witnessed by the torn dawn remains of Babel tower. Nonetheless, neglected for hundreds of years, yet still high and imposing.

Within the storm of black feathers rose one person amidst a bundle of corpses. Distracted by a compass in her hand, oblivious to the epic unfolding around her. One crow-sized over her shoulder.

"Those bodies are?" The question echoed inside her head. She nodded: "The gang that wanted to rob Mr. Hendrickson."

The crow pupils narrowed: "Do you believe that Hendrickson gave you the accurate map?"

"We will find out when we search for all the mentioned locations." Stashing the compass, she added: "Anyway, I have tricked him too, but if his map was accurate, I would have saved his life as a payment." She slowly walked to the edge: "Did you receive news about Kanari state?"

"She regained consciousness."

Her walking pace accelerated, "Perfect." Then jumped over the edge.


	78. Chapter Seventy-eight : A long road to the salvation

A few days ago…

Out of the turbulence of the unknown, a fake calm, like a serene water surface adorned Rokah's face.

He advanced, the luxury mesmerized the heart of his artistic fondness. Overwhelmed in affluent glitter, he flowed aloft the coaxing force.

Heads lowered, a row of attendants groveled behind them. Their chief, in front of him, led the way. He commented with a flawless command of the Aramaic script:

"The young master has recuperated so much since he started following your prescription."

An invisible throb made the lock of the white hair fluctuate up and down. Faintly, casting a trace of a shadow on his forehead.

Rokah's never respected his right to silence,... As he does now.

Door after a door, twist after twist, the old man halted at the entrance of a magnificent chamber.

Rokah's gaze bounced over the opening, spying the presence that hibernated inside.

A Sidelong glance watched the old man. Expecting some kind of signal. A noiseless nodding cue answered his brief wait. He strolled inside.

Meeting the widened eyes, he felt the need to perform certain courtesy moves.

Evident the master in here. Amongst the several women who encircled the big bed, the one who possessed enough prestige sat, persuading a young kid into drinking a bowl of soup.

Rokah straightened his back after a short bow. Vigilant, he studied the figures, gauging and mincing the details collected by his sensors.

The well-dressed woman stood, handing the bowl to one of the maids. She smiled at him with infinite grace. Many signals she gave clasped various interpretations.

His heart tensed, a slight pain ticked in his chest. For he was never the kind to pursue a wedlock woman.

Reverent, he bore the attitude of the oblivious. Painting the young kid on the bed the measurement of an experienced professional. Is this the young master he presumably had saved his life?

No hints in the dusty drawers of his memory reflected this accomplishment. Or the acquaintance of such a high, rich family.

Nevertheless, he should act the role, to the demand of normalcy scope, no matter what…

"I was afraid,..." She said a forged melodic sadness sipped through her words: "Since you were traveling around, and his health wasn't that good." Ah, he could see the reptile cold tears, "Even when his health was stable those months, my heart never rested."

Inspecting the pale skin, the young kid was obedient, complied with every demand of his doctor.

The weakness withered his tiny body, stole the flowering of his youth. Rendered him stony to the maintenance of strangers. More profound examination and the picture drew itself. Clear and ugly.

Headache thundered Rokah's scalp, splitting it. Searching for meanings, motive…

The signs of chronic poisoning prostrated openly before his skillful scrutiny. Exercising the right to silence, he kept an air of apathy.

With an arranging focus, cleaning the disorder of his thoughts. He woke up over the realization; This woman certainly was younger than to be the kid's mother.

Oh god…

Was he implicated in some kind of conspiracy to kill this little kid?

No matter how bad he viewed himself, it never crossed him, being bad to this extent…

Chewing, over and over, the available choices, his decision swung between, tell or not to tell…

"Then, doctor, what do you think after seeing my heir?" Babel Viceroy, his greatness, Lord Irshusin II demanded.

Pressed under the transient moment, Rokah molded the reply, as fast as he could, as ambiguous as the situation demanded: "The symptoms of poisoning were mild, but existing."

He could never dare to practice the art of medicine if such a thing happened.

"I see," The Lord locked hands behind his back, "It's good that I have followed your instructions."

A certain doctor stood back, considering the gist, eyes nearly popped out…

"Why do you keep such a woman?" Regretting the question. He received an ample check for his sanity, his highness delivered; "Political maneuvering." The answer was short and simple.

Invoking his right of silence. The little chat came to an end: "We can always communicate through the stone moon house." Were his highness final words?

***

Into the haziness of a fragmented dream plunged Rokah. Uncertain, confused.

Before the daybreak, the carriage left him in the middle of a road. A discarded chess piece that summed his feelings at the moment. However, for his highness, it was a strict measure for their mutual cooperation.

Godforsaken, the meaning of his deep words. Rokah wondered, What just had occurred?

Alone in the darkness, in a strange yet familiar place… The world seemed endless, wireless.

Where should he go?

The flying laughter behind the closed doors tickled his ears. The ashen illumination that escaped the tiny cracks accompanied him. As he passed through a myriad of tall walls, a cracking sensation of loss gnawed at his bones.

Alone in the narrow pathway, he dived, lacking destination. Succumbing to the calls of his vocation, he moved forward.

Somehow, a string of nostalgia wrapped his hollow heart.

How much he missed Madam Linda's cooking, the naïve smiles of her daughter. The faint light of handmade lanterns. the warmth that kissed the tired faces of the diligent woodcutters. The words of respect and appreciation.

How painful, the echoes of departure and goodbye.

Then the shadow of Mr. Hendrickson showed, silenced, dispersed all those warm moments of sentimentality. The pointless bloodshed never stopped in that tiny village. The damn fibster did one truth ever fled his smug mouth.

Was it really the Chimera Magus who caused all the massacre of innocent people? He can't believe anything anymore...

Why was he remembering all of this now?

Regrets...

Why did he feel that he will never find the answers?

It was a cold spring night, the breeze sang the symphony of farewell. Aimless, Rokah walked sluggishly. The gloomy road prolonged, farther and farther….

Akin to a feral ghost, Soundless, a particular black cat moved in his trail, its glowing eyes reflected the presence of a black star. Invisible in the darkness.

Like an illusion, he could hear Madam Linda's voice… He could see her face distorted, merged together with the image of his grandmother. Despite that, the two of them are dead.

"Because you are going to be a doctor…"

"Thank you, doctor…"

"You should take care of yourself more…"

"Don't worry, I will prepare this…"

Somehow he was unable to feel his legs, yet he pushed forward….

Somehow he could not see what was in front of him, but he advanced, nevertheless…

Somehow everything went blank. All of his senses clicked off. He didn't know anymore, was he alive or dead…

Then everything submitted to the solitude of nothingness…

"Where do you think he was going?" The black cat moaned.

Only a faint yellow glim was apparent. "I don't know." Between her lips stuck a silent whistle.

Those words left her throat at the same time the whistle dangled from her fingers. In a gesture of decency, Savannah took off her shawl and covered the senseless body. "Maybe to the whereabouts of the Opal stone." Wasn't Savannah and Kanari ultimate purpose in creating this doll.

The cat moaned, climbing atop the dead body. Making sure of his departure.


	79. Chapter Seventy-nine : A several reality for one event

In a southeast sanctum...

"What was his name?"

"Rokah."

"Oh," The vapor waltzed above. The water boiled, bubbles of heat jumped over the surface, fleeing the unbearable heat: "Hum, that was the name I have used to introduce myself to the Crocotta black star."

The dried Mint leaves collapsed inside the pot, their essence melted within the water. Gradually, the visible pot bottom vanished into a dark green shade: "This isn't a coincidence."

Two cups of hot mint drink were placed on the stone table.

The big man held one to his lips, blowing off the vapor: "Certainly not." He threw a reprimanding look at the other party.

"…."

"But, that, just, I do not understand."

"What you don't understand?" Isidore slammed the cup down, only one sip reached his tongue: "I have warned you million times to never provoke the Crocotta clan, especially their women, and here looks what you have done? As if we are in dire need of more enemies."

Without severing the eye contact. Odd colored eyes swung with the movement as his body claimed the site before the big man. He said a flavor of manipulation mingled with genuine concern: "I am glad that you are alive."

Like a magic trick, those words served their purpose. The Kerit's angry wrinkles softened, then melted into an uncontained coolness. His big hand extended, patting the white hair: "I am also glad that you have survived."

The white eyelashes, melancholically, lowered. Wandering the sea of reminiscence. Flashed pictures run in a row, all grey and dim of lost abode in ash.

"Can you tell me what happened? First." Clément demanded, the vapor of the mint drink concealed half of his face. In contrast to the pleading tone he used, the other visible half radiated a hardly tamed ferocity, an unwillingly oozing rage. A mouthful of the hot mint drink lubricated his bloodless lips.

The bandaged hand supported the eager chin, the other hand tightly gripping the miserable cup. Waiting…

He craved Isidore's version of the story. The version on how Mt.Ninurta succumbed into ash…

The Kerit, despite his disability, somehow smelled the burning invisible fire. Even suffocated by the unnoticeable smoke. After much contemplation, he finally resigned to confirm: "Yudha…, then, Yudha is dead?"

He got brushed aside by Clément's closed eyes. The latter gulped the hot drink, avoiding the confrontation, fleeing the hard confession. Under his suppressed breath, between his tightened lips, fainted words of confirmation flew to the big man's ears.

The Next passing seconds, the silence ruled the slow, unbearable progress. Their interactions were limited to a mute conversation, mourning a gone soul.

Lost hopelessness, grief. Attempting to escape this gluttonous whirlpool of chaotic emotions, Clément was the first to move: "I have collected much information about the said event. Most were cut narrations or deductions based on incomplete facts." He inhaled, clearing his thoughts, glaring: "I want to know what truly did happen from the perspective of a real eyewitness."

This statement, as innocent as it appeared as desperate as it seemed. It gave Isidore the impression that he was stuck behind the bars of blames.

Like thunder, Clément's gaze rained unspeakable questions, heavy and grim; how did you manage to survive while Yudha is dead, while Mt. Ninurta turned into ruin? Where were you in this tragedy? Where were you till this time, till this moment?

The big man index stroked the base of the cup, mincing the assumption inside his throat. He articulated after much choosing and refining :

"I am certain now..." His eyes jiggled, watching the cold pale outline for an expression: "Whoever was the mastermind behind the attack on Mt. Ninurta, their motive wasn't to blunder its wealth but to take master Yudha's life."

An undisturbed surface, Clément's face didn't flinch. Like icy water, he radiated a chilly tune. It was then when Isidore apprehended the shadows of remorse, the ghosts of regret swimming underneath.

"Do not submerge yourself into blame," he said, cooling down the accumulated ice: "It wasn't your fault or the fault of any of us… It's just…" The taste of mint drink lubricated his dried mouth, it took him far more sobriety to assert: "The attack was masterfully elaborated, unexpectedly quick and destructive." He gazed at Clément's lowered eyelashes, continuing forcibly: "Till today, I am still stuck in the nightmares of that night,... Certainly, it was the work of a master strategist who outwitted Yudha even in one move."

The upcoming silent minutes hanged the bitterness of the confession, slowly, heavily… The guise of defeat breached:

"Then, it must be an old grudge." Clément's face finally broadcasted modest emotions, albeit that was of anger and hate.

"Maybe?"

"What do you think?"

A sigh escaped Isidore's chest, he closed his eyes reviving the memories of that day: "They used fire to attract my attention, when I finally arrived for checking, my lucidity started to waver, and I probably entered the transformation state. I vaguely remember what happened after, but I am certain, there were Simia laagers and they were burning incense. The next thing I recall was waking up in a farm-village that belongs to the Crocotta."

The side of Clèment's index slid over his lips, nestled on his chin. For an instant, he appeared as if he was going to bite it in the middle. A gesture, the Kerit was very familiar with its dark meaning.

"I can draw four conclusions from your story." Clément reshaped the atmosphere, yet again: "Firstly, the Crocotta clan is involved in the affair. Secondly, the burning incensed must be the blue royale Ood since it induced a forced transformation. Thirdly, the mastermind was highly informed of the extent of your disability. That leads us to the fourth conclusion, a mole had successfully infiltrated our ranks."

"That's exactly my thoughts. However,... "

"However?" Clément reverberated in anticipation, pupils of his eyes narrowed as in hunger and thirst. He monitored the big man's gestures every inch. Up till the last drops of the mint, the drink was swallowed dry.

"I investigated my situation when I was trapped there…" Isidore moved his cup so Clément would refill it, "It's not strange for a farm-village to be surrounded by a barrier to prevent livestock evasion, but the one who was in control was a Simia magus."

"Well, that's also not strange, maybe the Simia magus was delegated by the Crocotta in first place in exchange for protection, wealth, and women," Clément stated, yet his thoughts wandered far deep then this superficial justification.

"The thing is…" The Kerit big finger tapped on the cup edge inducing a ripple: "I am certain that this Semia was the same one that I saw maneuvering the burning incense." Isidore lifted his eyes. They fell directly on Clément's. "Do you think a mere Simia could handle me alone in my raging status?"

"You are dancing around the same point, it must be the Crocotta doing."

A big hand hit the table, "Do not rush conclusions and let me continue."

"..."

"Later, I confirmed that the Simia magus was under the protection of a blood-sucking demon. Actually, the whole farm-village was between this demon's hands. He even created an army of undead."

"..."

Clément proceeded to comment, yet he turned silently under Isidore's stern gaze.

"Before the end of winter, the Crocotta sent an animated puppet that exactly resembled how you look at the moment. After, Savannah, the void ambassador, and Esere Akila make an entrance. I do not know the details, but the Esere managed to retrieve the farm without significant casualties."

The big man paused, indicating to the other party that he could talk. What a pity, Clément wasn't the expressive type, if not, his jew would be dropped by now.

"There is more," He watched the odd colored eyes nailing him with daggers of interest and puzzlement, urging him for a continuation: " I tested the puppet several times, Oh boy, it was as nasty as disturbing as you. I do not doubt that it was created after your person. But this is not all,..."

"Uh oh… What more?"

"The puppet was accompanied by a gravely injured Amarok, who mysteriously knows you, and claims that you are the one who saved his life." Isidore toughened his voice; "That's also not all," He scowled at Clément, "Why in hell Savannah searching your whereabouts like her life and death pending at your hands?"

The small room, drained from the vitality of life, succumbed behind the clouds of quietness. The kerit visage demanded an answer.

"I may have an explanation for this minor matter." Clément confessed, guiltless, landing his gaze on the big man frowned eyebrows: "This matter has no relation to Mt. Ninurta attack or this…. major… huge conspiracy. As a matter of fact, this affair is something personal."

"I have guessed so far,... But let's not rule out the possibility of you being used unknowingly." The Kerit, unimpressed, rather mad. The hidden meaning tucked amidst his modest syllables stemmed from an admonition. Nonetheless, it was as discernible as a candle in the bleak night.

Back in the days, the one who took upon himself the responsibility of teaching Clèment, the laws that govern the gives and takes between the shapeshifters, was this humble Kerit.

He always warned him to not offend the Crocotta. For their innate nature to never forget or forgive who arrogantly crossed their road.

From this statement, Clément conceived two notions. The first, Isidore has yet to exclude the Crocotta' invisible hand in the matter of Mt. Ninurta. The second one, he needed to save face. Given being used without one's knowledge, it was synonymous with being stupid.

In quest of providing his irrefutable reasons, Clément hastily left the room. When he returned, a plain wooden box was set on the table.

Two individuals looked one to the other. Each carried his own convection. An awkward moment of stillness with unspoken questions moved slowly.

Skillful fingers tempered with the box, opening it. The other man watched, the curiosity crawled his skin.

What he upheld, a precious gemstone, multi-colored, the size of an eyeball. It ornamented the middle section of a circle.

"What is this?" Isidore asked. He actually meant; did you steal this jewelry piece from one of them?

A face possessed beyond arrogance, dripped with an affirmation: "Do you remember my opal stone." A tone, all smug: "I have found it, and retrieved it…" Not yet satisfied, he added: "From someone with the most dangerous reputation in Innyana's range."

Clément, high, traveled into a realm of his own. He didn't notice the other party pulling something from his clothes.

Only the blinding glitter from the second gemstone was able to slap him back to the real world. Actually, the slap was so powerful that it sent him down to the hell doors.

Confused, he demanded: "Why are there two opal stones, that are identical."


	80. Glossary and Fanarts

The glossary:

* Aractanthrope: a combination of ¨Anthrop¨ for a person or humanoid and ¨Ar¨ from Arctoidea an infra-order of mostly carnivorous mammals mainly used in this novel to means a creature with two physical shapes: a mythical bear-like beast and a humanoid.

* Lycanthrope: a mythological creature from Greek literary means "wolf-person", a human with the ability to shape-shift into a wolf. In this novel, is used in the sense of a creature with two forms: one a mythical wolf and the other is a humanoid form.

* Anthropomorphic: relating to or characterized by anthropomorphism. Is the attribution of human traits, emotions, or intentions to non-human entities. In this novel, it is used in the sense of a mixture of animal and human physical and psychological characteristics.

* Metamorph: used in the sense of a creature who can change its form or shape.

  
  
* Polymorph: it is a creature who has more than one shape, basically has the same sense of Metamorph.

* Aramaic: an ancient language.

* Amarok: a mythical giant wolf. Used to name a Polymorph who has this mythical wolf shape. In the novel, it's used to have the same meaning for a Lycanthrope.

  
  
* Kerit: a mythical creature: a bear-like beast with hardened armor. Used in this novel to name a Polymorph who has this shape. In the novel, it's used to have the same meaning for an Aractanthrope.

* Crocotta: a mythical creature, a mixed breed between a wolf and striped hyena with two horns.

* Chimera: used not in its mythical sense but in a way to refer to a being who is composed of two or more parts of diffident species. It has the same signification as anthropomorphic. Why use two words that have the same signification, because I wanted to show the cultural difference between the two species.

# Kerit / Aractanthrope

A Kerit: an armored bear. The material and the shape of armor are variables from a Kerit to Kerit; Some from metals, some from stones, crystals others made of a mix of everything. Honestly, it depends on the Kerit origin, habitat, and what he eats.

Until now, we have seen one Kerit in the series. But he has yet to transform. Well, shape-shifting in this world has its rules and price that we have yet to know about.

# Crocotta

This is a second piece depicting a Crocotta. and probably the last piece of fanart for now. (there will be more, but not for the time being.)

This one is more based on a real-life stripped Hyena, that why it looked more realistic (I hope so).

Anyway, you must have noticed that there is no other Latin/Greek name for a Crocotta. You will find out why later in the series.

What we know so far about the Crocotta is a matriarchal clan. They all have a very dark skin and glowing pale eyes. Their stronghold, located in Innyana range in which they are considered the most dominant force after the mysterious events of Mt. Ninurta.

Aside from being a mythical beast shapeshifter, some have a special characteristic and abilities that will be revealed slowly (If needed in the narrative).


End file.
